Week 2

My last ride and the space between the site of the accident & home.

Sunday, August 26th Is it called 'waking up' if you don't really sleep? My nights at the hospital consisted of a 10pm vital check & pills, 12pm vital check, 2am vital check, 4am vital check & pills, 5am blood draw (yes daily), 6am vital check, pills, shot of blood thinner....  A good night's sleep at the hospital is relative.  

This morning I discovered the tremendous back pain that's been preventing me from sleeping more than an hour at a time is actually the place in my pelvis where all the hardware is installed.  At least I'm getting acquainted with my anatomy.

The day started (the part where I give up on ever going back to sleep) with coffee from Brad followed by a visit from Laura.  Brad left to go for a run.  I'm trying my best to be supportive of others who can still run but every day it's a little harder to fein interest.

My ortho doc came in and asked if I wanted to go home.  He told me he could make it happen if I could get him a dozen doughnuts.  I called Gina, who appeared with the box that would break me from this joint 20 minutes later.  It wasn't just the doughnuts, it was a clearance from PT too.  Laura watched me 'walk' down the hallway clip-clopping away with the walker.  When I got back to my bed, the PT said she couldn't really release me until I conquered stairs - I asked where I had to go to get to the stairs and if we could please go there right now.  She told me to stay in bed.  I think my persistence paid off though.  Around 11am, ortho doc was back with instructions for my release!!!

I rallied the troops to start coordinating the jail break.  Brad brought me real-ish clothes.  I couldn't really go home in my bike cleats.  In fact, we quickly discovered I couldn't fit an actual shoe on my swollen left foot.  Barbara, Necole & Chris were on standby at my apartment.  They would have to help transport me up 3 flights of stairs to my front door.

At 4pm, one of my favorite nurses, Rasheeda, who also operates an ice cream truck, wheeled me out the front door, where I breathed fresh downtown Newark air, for the first time in over a week.  I lowered myself into Brad's car and we rushed to get to the pharmacy before it closed at 5pm.   Although I phoned ahead to find out what one needed in order to pick up heavy narcotics, there was still a glitch.  Our ID's weren't sufficient.  The paper scripts with an actual signature weren't sufficient.  They had to speak to the doctor on the phone to validate the order...on a Sunday at 4:58pm.  Brad became my knight in shining armor when he used my discharge paperwork to plead our case to the pharmacist and emerged from CVS with a multitude of pill bottles.

When we arrived at our apartment, I was greeted with balloons & banners! I couldn't have been happier.  I was also greeted with a something that resembled a chair or maybe it was what happens when you cross a stretcher with a chair.  In any case, I was belted onto this device prior to being hiosted up all 3 flights of stairs by Chris & Brad.  It pays to have EMT friends!  Finally, I was inside my home...the home I'd left at 6am a week ago, thinking it was the perfect morning for a bike ride.

Before I went to bed, I was treated to dinner from Cori.  Sarah came bearing pitchers and a water basin which were used to wash my hair for the first time in more than a week.  A shower isn't in my cards for at least another week, probably longer, due to the placement of the the surgical incision.  It doesn't quite go all the way around my waist but I was cut from my bellybutton to my back.  If I were a cartoon character, I could hinge open.  Clean hair, clean apartment, all the comforts of home were finally in reach.

Monday, August 27th If the nurses don't wake me every two hours, the pain will.  To spite the drug regime, sleep doesn't seem to be in my cards.

Barb stopped by with breakfast and coffee.  She also brought new toys for me to try out....a fancier walker & crutches.  Walking to the bathroom still equates to a 10 mile run.

Wendy brought a slew of options to bath without bathing.  I didn't know what a huge part of my new life this would be.  Not being permitted to shower takes away all my dignity.  Before this injury, I was a twice a day girl.  My 10 year old daughter, Josie, is staying with me.  She started cleaning my legs and was fearful I was turning into Donald Trump because the more she scrubbed, the more the towels were covered with orange residue from the iodine used in surgery.

Kim stopped by with lunch & a new night shirt.  Along with the no-shower life alteration, the no-pants world is also new to me.

I was actually able to spend a couple hours working on 2018 5K Doughnut Run preparations with Gina.  It was the most human I've felt in a while.  I have an intrinsic need to be productive.

The day finished with a wonderful home-cooked meal from Tracey.  Josie said it was the best dinner she's had in a very long time.  Thank God for Jersey corn!

Tuesday, August 28th Being home is bitter sweet.  I missed being in my space and having my things.  On the other hand, it makes me feel like I should be doing more because I no longer qualify for hospital status.  Even the people close to me leave me linger longer, forget I can't get anything outside of arm's length and generally just go on with their lives.  Meanwhile, my world is the smallest it's ever been.  I'm so much closer to normalcy but I have so much further to go and it's palpable.

I hosted the weekly Montclair Bread Co. leadership meeting in my apartment...more productivity.  Carolyn's mom made me my favorite garlic pickles, the same pickles that sustained me during my 2nd pregnancy.  

Chloe dropped off dinner for us.  Lizzy came to visit in the evening.  My comfort level using forearm crutches (like the young Forrest Gump), greatly increased.  I walked a couple laps in my apartment and did 10 single leg squats.  I felt hopeful about my progress.

Wednesday, August 29th was a set back.  The pain at night is no joke.  I can't sleep for more than 2 hours at at time.  I dread going to bed but I'm so exhausted, I have no choice.  When I lay awake trying not to think about how broken my body is, I think about the last night I was in control.  Brad & I hosted our birthday party just over a week ago.  It was the highest high having all our loved ones in one place, celebrating.  Less than 24 hours later, it was the lowest low and I realized it was going to be a very long time before I regained control of my life.  

It was a hard day.  Nothing could stop the pain.  It wasn't just my wounds but all the drugs started to catch up to my system.  My stomach was in knots. I felt feverish. I just wanted to be alone to lick my wounds in a quiet place.

There are things I never have to worry about as an amateur athlete.  I can stand on one foot.  I can open the tightest spaghetti jars.  I can wake up every morning and take a dump before I leave the house.  Well, no longer my friends.  Inactivity thrust me into a world of constipation & unopenable jar lids.  Did you know you use your abs to get a better grip and force those suckers open?  You do and I can't because I have a 12 inch incision across my stomach that makes it impossible to go deep.  Same goes for that poop problem.  It really fucking sucks and yet again, I feel helpless.

Khushbu brought us a beautiful taco dinner with fresh peach salsa.  My grandpa had a peach tree in our yard when I was growing up.  Peaches are my favorite fruit.  They make me think of him.  However pissed off Brad is that I went for a life-altering bike ride through an urban area, Pop would double his sentiments.  I wish he was here to yell at me.  The peaches were a close second.

Just as I was getting ready for bed, Barbara came over and taught me how to go up and down the stairs.  I took four steps down and four back up.  It was the first time I've been outside my apartment.  I could see the front door of my building.  It was another 10 steps away.  It was like the scene in Beetlejuice when the newly dead Geena Davis & Alec Baldwin try to leave their house but the door opens to a dessert pit filled with man-eating sand worms....

Thursday, August 30th Three weeks ago was a "peak week" in my training plan.  I swam 2000+ yards on Monday, ran 3x 1.5 miles at sub-7:45 pace on Tuesday, biked 20 miles on Wednesday, killed 4x1200 on the track Thursday (7:23, 7:22, 7:19, 7:15 pace per rep), swam 3x 600 Friday, ran for 2 hours Saturday morning and completed all 3 hours of my Sunday morning ride before my accident.  If you asked, I would tell you, I was in the best shape of my life.

I am grateful for my coach, Alden, and his training plan.  Prior to this season, I was only focused on running...6 days a week of running...50+ miles of just running.  It didn't allow for any cross training.   If this accident occurred then (only one could argue I didn't have time to cycle back then), I would have been devastated and depressed - 1000x more than I am right now.  I am fortunate to have spent the last three months in the pool, on the bike and only running 3 days each week.  Running wasn't my entire life anymore, just a big part of it.  My body is all-over strong, not just leg strong.   When Barbara came to teach me how to go down the stairs, all I could think about was how lucky I am to be physically fit.  The amount of upper body strength I've gained has allowed me to become more and more independent every day.  I can lift my body down one step and then another, without putting an ounce of weight on my reconstructed left side.

After lunch, I decided to try the stairs again.  Brad spotted me down the first four steps to the mezzanine in my building.  I could see the sun shining through the front door.  I decided to try a few more stairs.  Before I knew it, I was walking across the street and through the front door of my bakery.  It was emotional to say the least.  Just a few days ago, this seemed like an impossible feat. Note to readers: Going up is much harder than going down.  Save some energy for the back half.

Tracey brought us another incredible home cooked meal.  Jodi stopped by with chocolate caramel ice cream bars, more coloring books and a hand-crafted Wonder Woman robe! It was a delicious way to end a positive day.

Friday, August 31st I set my alarm for the first time since the morning of my last ride.  I wanted to watch the opening registration for the 2018 5K Doughnut Run.  Gina was coming over at 5:30am to watch with me.  I slept from 9pm-2am last night, the longest stretch to date.  If I don't wake with pain, I wake with cramps.  I'm only able to sleep laying flat, sitting up or somewhere in between.  Before the accident, I was a solid side-sleeper, pillow-cuddler.  

Gina & I watched the registrations come through.  We didn't sell out as fast as last year's race but it was still fun to see all the hype.  Wayne came to make egg sandwiches with the eggs his chickens laid.  Cara, Aileen & Colleen stopped by after their morning run.  Jess was in and out most of the day, updating me on bakery operations and bringing me treats - like clean bedsheets & washcloths so I could trade in the kitchen towels I asked for earlier this week.  Not being able to shower reduces me to this.  Eric Z, who is 4 weeks post-op from a nasty hamstring surgery, stopped by with a bag of tricks he used to help recovery.  Laura brought dinner.  Anne brought a bag of clothes that I might be able to fit over my bandages.

Saturday, September 1st It's been 3 days since I traded my heavy duty pain meds for tylenol.  I got tired of feeling fuzzy and although the pain is more intense, my brain is fully functional and I can poop.  Imagine the worst charlie horse you ever had then multiply it by two.  That's the pain I feel in my bones.  If that were the only pain, it maybe tolerable but it's not.  There's also the 12" incision across my stomach.  When I cough, it feels like my guts are going to explode out of me and land in my lap.  When the pain is managed, the charlie horse is just a dull ache and the incision throbs slightly.  I also haven't fully regained feeling in my leg from the epidural.  My thigh is in a constant state of pins and needles which, I'm told, can take up to 5 weeks to dissipate. 

Earlier this week, I wrote to the organizers of Iron Man Lake Placid, my former goal race, to request a deferral.  They said no.  They gave me a link to the 'no refund, no deferral' policy if I wanted to refresh my memory.  They lost a customer.

What I like most about running are the goals.  I can set a goal that will only take me 12 weeks of training.  If I put in the time, I meet the goal.  Or, I don't meet the goal and I set another one for the next 12 week cycle.  I'm always working toward something.  I have goals for my bakery too but the fires that pop up in the way of them are so derailing that I may not ever meet them.  I'm not completely in control in the way I am when I run (or bike or swim).  

Now that next fall's IMLP is NOT my recovery goal, I found a new one.  It's a sprint triathlon hosted by Kinetic Multisport (NOT Ironman), in my hometown in June 2019.  When I was growing up, I didn't give two f**ks about athletics so naturally, I had no idea that such a race even existed.  I definitely got annoyed when hoards of cyclists showed up at the restaurant where I bussed tables, asking for water.

My new goal is a little more than 12 weeks away. It's 7 months and 12 weeks away.  I'm hoping in the next year, I'll be able to rotate my hip bones to ride a bike, jostle them back and forth to kick in the pool and, eventually, allow them to take a pounding as my feet hit the pavement in a constant forward motion.

Week 1

This is what 2 plates, 12 screws and an IUD look like.

Saturday, August 18th was pretty much like every other Saturday.  I woke up at 5am, ran 13ish miles before 7am with my Fueled by Doughnuts running crew, organized the troops at Montclair Bread Company, and made sure my kiddos weren't killing each other.  This particular Saturday was a little different.  My partner, Brad, and I were hosting a birthday party for ourselves because our big days are only two weeks apart.  Our families and friends were descending upon us for an evening of good food, good drinks & good company.

I spent most of the day preparing for the party which went off without a hitch.  I enjoyed a few craft beers, talked until I couldn't talk anymore and called it a night before 10pm because I had an early morning bike ride scheduled for Sunday with my friend Yana.  Yana and I are both scheduled to complete the 70.3 Lake Placid Iron Man on September 9th and we've been putting in a lot of miles on two wheels together.

Sunday, August 19th, we met at 7am, a little later than normal because I wanted post-party sleep.  I was groggy, slightly hungover but ready to clip in and get this over with.  After the 3 hour ride, I had to run for 30 minutes.  The ride was only the beginning of Sunday Funday.

We rode to Chatham, NJ which was a major win for us.  We've been trying to get there for the last few weeks but we always manage to miss a turn.  On the way back, we did miss a turn and went through a bit more of an urban adventure than we'd planned.  That said, we've ridden all these roads before and we just had a little bit further to go before we were back to the starting point and ready to run.

We got to West Orange, 2 miles from home, and I saw a driver open a car door just in front of Yana.  She gracefully swerved to miss hitting it.  The driver stepped out and stood next to the door making the obstacle slightly larger for me to avoid.  I swerved, my wheels slipped on the damp street and, my left hip slammed on the pavement taking the full brunt of the fall.  I screamed.  Yana ran back for me.  Strangers surrounded me telling me not to move.  My bike was on top of me.  My leg was twisted with pain.  The cops arrived.  The ambulance arrived.  Before I knew what happened, I was en route to University Hospital in Newark, NJ.  I remained conscious.  

Transport became the dirtiest word in the English language.  Transport meant I had to be moved.  Moving hurt.  I was convinced my hip popped out of the socket.  My IT Band was on fire.  Brad beat the ambulance to the hospital.  There was more transport, a series of x-rays, more transport, a CT scan, Yana was there, Necole was there, more transport. Every Xray, every CT scan meant I had to move myself and all my still unknown injuries onto a different table.  The pain was beyond unbearable.  Transport meant I was alone.  In this final transport, I was left alone with a tech named Manny who told me I had pretty legs and I should keep them covered.   

Finally, a diagnosis, my pelvis was shattered.  The force sent the ball of my hip straight into the socket which pulverized the bone.  I needed surgery.

Monday, August 20th I was woken by nurse Lina at 4am. This should have been my alarm waking me to get ready to catch an Uber to the airport.  Brad & I were supposed to be flying to San Francisco this week for my first real vacation that I can remember.  Lina was there to prep me for surgery, the surgery they told me would be Monday at the earliest.  I was alone, with a complete stranger, getting prepped for my first surgery.  I was alone when they wheeled me into the operating room.  I have never been so scared in my life but I knew in order to get some relief from the pain that kept building, I needed this. I don't remember counting backwards.  I don't remember a breathing tube being inserted. I do remember the nurse with the fabulous earrings. 

I woke up in the recover ward.  Brad was there waiting.  It was 4pm.  Then transport, more x-rays, more transport, another CT scan (The machine died while I was inside and I was left to wait for 20 minutes while they called engineering. It was never repaired), more transport, more time with Manny.  This time, Manny he didn't stop with compliments, he decided I needed to be touched.  I was completely alone and helpless.  I was sobbing as he touched me.  I had no way of calling for help.  I begged for anyone to call Brad who was waiting for me to return.  After almost 3 hours disconnected from all pain meds and too much time with Handsy Manny,  I was finally transported to a room of my own where Brad & Barb were waiting to put me to bed.  The surgery was successful.  The surgery they said I might not need.  The 8+ hour surgery that produced a 10 inch incision, two metal plates and at least a dozen screws to reconstruct my pelvis.

Before I passed out after the longest and shortest day of my life, the surgeon came to say it was a success.  I can not bear any weight on my left side for 6 weeks.   I will be lucky to start running again in 6 months.  I will be able to swim & cycle before I can run.

Tuesday, August 21st I woke up at 2:42am to the sound of the people in the hospital room next to me having sex.  I woke up with 3 canisters of blood attached to me with tubes to drain the surgical spillage.  I woke up to a nurse throwing a bin of cold water and a rag at me, telling me to wash my slits and pits.

In addition to the drains, I had a catheter and two IV's connected to countless bags of saline, drugs & antibiotics.  Both legs were dressed in compression sleeves and hooked up to a system inflating and deflating around them to prevent blood clots.  I had a bandage covering the better part of my abdomen & upper thighs. Washing myself was not an option.  I didn't even know what I could touch if I could even reach it.

I had visitors from the running club, Wayne, Barb, Lizzy, Yana, Sarah & Kyle. Jessica brought lunch and let me know the bakery was in good shape without me.  Gina brought my kids to visit me for the first time since the accident.  They had lots of questions. Everyone brought food.  Sarah made sure my hair was clean & brushed. Jodi delivered chocolate covered strawberries & coloring books. I went to sleep in a much better place than I was when I woke.

Wednesday, August 22nd the doctors removed out the catheter and I had 8 hours to pee on my own or they'd put it back in.  Little did they know, I'm one for a challenge and this hydration game is one I know very, very well.  2 hours later, I peed on my own, in a bed pan, on the bed.  I told the nurse, it wasn't my style.  I wanted to sit in a chair to pee.  The angel found an adult version of a potty chair and allowed me to go from the bed to the chair so long as my feet didn't really touch the ground.  Finally, a small bit of dignity was brought back into my life.

My visitors were plentiful and they all came bearing food.  John & Angela brought coffee first thing in the morning.  Hillary came with lunch and informed me of all the steps the Fueled by Doughnuts running club has taken to ensure I have the support I need.  Meal trains were arranged to prevent me from suffering through hospital meals. Anne, Colleen and Laura brought more food & entertainment. Rebecca came with fried rice and stories from her recovery after she broke her pelvis and returned to be a stronger runner than ever before.  Lizzy braided my hair while Sarah & Yana kept me company before bed.  Lina who prepped me for surgery, was my nurse for the next two nights and I couldn't be happier.

Thursday, August 23rd started with a cup of coffee from Barbara, not only a fellow triathlete but also a PT and my number one advocate through this whole process. Shortly after her visit, the first of my drains were removed. The last two were removed just before I went to sleep for the night.   I was able to sit in a chair for an hour today.  My physical therapist moved my potty chair onto the actual potty.  I began using the walker to get to the bathroom myself regaining more and more of my dignity and independence.  Granted, I needed a nurse, friend or Brad to help me swing my bad leg off and onto the bed for me and I still required a lot of help getting unhooked from all the tubes in order to leave the bed. I took every opportunity to get every friend who visited me to take me to the bathroom before they left.  If I had to wait for a nurse, I might wait for an hour.  I was also finally able to stop ignoring texts, phone calls & emails from concerned friends who are in the medical know, asking if I'd pooped yet - if ya know what I mean. Cara brought the kids to visit for a second time, along with a stash of magazines to keep me entertained.

Friday, August 24th was my 38th birthday.  It was also the day I got my morphine drip removed and one of my two IV's out.  It was the IV they placed in the ER which was in the bend of my elbow.  I've heard they place them there because it's an easy vein to find and they don't actually think you're going to be staying for long.  It makes life difficult because it means you can't bend your arm which in my case was my right arm making eating very difficult, especially when you can't fully sit upright.

Brad brought me coffee. Ora followed closely behind with my favorite strawberry birthday cake baked with love from Carolyn at Montclair Bread Co & soup!  Eslin stopped by for lunch with a dress I could actually put on to replace the awful scratchy hospital gowns I'd been living in for almost a week.  The rest of the afternoon was filled with visitors...Joel, Brian, Huan & Kate.  Barbara helped me take my longest walk yet and she stayed with me until I fell asleep.

Saturday, August 25th I discovered a member of our running family is also an bone surgeon.  She was doing rounds nearby and brought me breakfast.  I began feeling confident (and scummy) enough to go to the bathroom unassisted.  I stood (on one foot) at the bathroom sink and brushed my teeth for the first time since Sunday morning.

Brad was on coffee duty again.  Anne came by but the hospital bouncer wouldn't let baby Levon come see me.  Brad took me for a walk to the end of the nurses station and back.  Marika brought salad and stayed to catch up.  Cruz & Wendy brought a new bed shirt & robe for me to change into along with latin food.  Together, the 3 of us walked halfway down the hospital hallway and back to my bed.  Chandra brought dinner and talked to me about her experience recovering from plates & pins.

I missed the Saturday morning group run.  I didn't miss the minute by minute updates from Chris & Necole who were inside my apartment all day, deep cleaning (not sure this has ever been done) & handicapping (absolutely positive this has never been done).  They tested stairs & railings, moved doors, replaced smoke alarms, raised the height of my bed and scrubbed away all the germs that might delay my recovery.  

Week 1 has been unexpected and challenging to say the least.  It has allowed me to see the mass of love I'm surrounded by in my community.  I can't imagine what life would be like without such incredible souls.  I thought I was lucky to have them run beside me but little did I know, that was only a small part of what this community is capable of supporting. I don't feel alone.  I have a very long road ahead and a very long list of people to help me travel it.

PS - If I missed your name on my list of visitors or mixed up the days - I am highly medicated and this whole week is a little fuzzy so please forgive me!