Today my physical therapist said to me "This is the first time I've seen you smile in 6 months!"I told him he could've seen me smile anytime he wanted to, he just had to say the magic words:
"You can go climb now."
I was not expecting this today. Just a few weeks ago, I was barely getting through classes, not doing any PT, and still wearing my brace daily for large chunks of time. Starting school was just too much too fast and caused a huge setback in my rehab. Then pretty suddenly I finally felt almost normal. I felt like a horribly out-of-shape person who'd been sedentary for 4 months, but no longer felt like an invalid. I also was making it through entire days without the brace at all, about every other day. After a full week of that, my physical therapist agreed that it was time to start working. I was pretty psyched, despite the bittersweetness of spending a gorgeous October weekend in a smelly, windowless room surrounded by sweaty but apparently uninjured people. I know why I was in there, but I can't figure out why they were.
The interesting thing about strength training with weight machines is that you can quantify your capabilities. Being able to control and keep track of specifically which muscles are working and how much weight they are moving is exactly why my physical therapist wanted me in there, but it was a bit shocking. I honestly wasn't aware it was possible for a person to be as weak as I am right now. I also got weighed - I lost about 12 lbs. since the accident, and it's all muscle. I hope that number on the scale is only going to go up now, but it's disturbing - the last time I weighed this little, I wasn't yet this height.
I have exercises that I have to do every single day, no exceptions, no rest days. It only takes about an hour, but the first 3 days that was absolutely all I had in me for the day. I came home, showered, ate lunch, and wondered if 1pm was an unreasonable time to go to bed. My complete uselessness was not conducive to finishing my first real project of the semester, but when it came down to sacrificing PT for the day or any hope of getting my schoolwork done, I went to the gym. I decided to stick with school this semester and it set my rehab back about a month. This time I chose my body.
It paid off! Today my physical therapist looked at my PT log and poked at my back and watched me do some exercises and said "What about the climbing wall?"
Me: I didn't go!! I promise! You told me not to!
PT guy: I know. I think you should start.
Me: ....wait.....REALLY???
I didn't hear anything else he said for a few minutes because my brain was busy exploding with joy. He finally got my attention and said "LISTEN. You are weaker than you have EVER been before. Be CAREFUL. 15 minutes max. You might not be able to do even that much. No falling or jumping." Ideally, I would do 15 min. a day, every day, gradually increasing. But I still have to do all my mandatory gym exercises too, and the 30 min. drive to the wall isn't super practical for 7 days a week.
Leaving the PT office, since I was already near the climbing wall, I went straight there. I never imagined when I left my house this morning that I should bring my climbing shoes with me. I'm not sure I even know where my climbing shoes are, the last time I saw them I was in a different time zone.
Climbing again was surreal. I am much, much weaker than I was the first time I ever climbed, and yet I still have all the experience and knowledge so I am in some ways much better, and in other ways much worse, than the first time I got on a wall. My grip strength is happily not as hopeless as I expected, my balance is terrible and my flexibility is a joke. Did I mention I have only very recently been able to reach my own shoelaces? As I was stemming in a corner, resting, I began to cry. I don't think I ever understood crying for joy before, but the relief was just overwhelming. Luckily no one was there to see me. I'm still badass. Being deeply moved by 15 minutes on a fake wall doesn't change the fact that I've crack-climbed on a broken foot and hiked out with 5 crushed vertebrae, a broken rib, gushing head wound, and traumatic brain injury. Awww, yeah.
Speaking of 15 minutes, it was really hard to stop. Luckily I had groceries in my car and a strategically underfed parking meter to help tip the scales toward my responsible side.
Today is October 15th. 4 months to the day since the last time I climbed. Now if you care about me at all, you need to do two very important things. Come hang out with me at the wall and be a super encouraging belayer, and wish very hard that wintery-ness holds off a bit this year - long enough for me to get strong enough for just one late-season Gunks weekend.
No comments:
Post a Comment