 |
| Barb Polan Barb’s Recovery |
Yesterday, Tom and I hosted a gathering of rowers; although everyone sees each other often during the rowing season, the out-f-season months often keep us separated from most of the others, so we plan social events in the off-season. We have frequent TGIF gatherings at pizza places or the local brew pub. Last year someone organized a keep-in-shape program in a nearby health club. Tom and I hold an annual Bananagrams party. It's a simple Scrabble-like game dependent more on the speed at which you can assemble words rather than points associated with words. Not as hard to win as I find "Words with Friends" is on my phone. We selected our library as the room to play in. Of course, it's at the opposite end of the house from the kitchen. That meant I made about 30 (or was it 300?) trips the length of our house (90 feet) carrying food, plates, glasses, etc. To carry objects, I walked (lurched along?) without my cane. Walking without my cane overuses my hip flexor, so I try to minimize it. Although my lurching during preparations was about my usual, I felt as though something was different, although I couldn't identify it. Going up the stairs at bedtime, I tried using my hamstring to bend my leg, and everything went as usual, with my leg rising behind me. This morning, while still in bed, I was lying on my right side and decided to roll to my back. To straighten my legs, I tried my left first and - unbelievable - my hamstring flexed and swung my foot behind me. Thrilled, I laid on my back and slid my left foot up toward my bum, then straightened it; I repeated it over and over until the comforter caused too much friction to pull my foot toward my torso. My dreams of being able to walk normally, climb stairs alternating feet on the steps, and kick my feet while sitting on a swing (not really) are now within reach. I am so proud of my hard work and persistence that I'm crying as I type this. Now I am convinced that one day I'll be able to open and close my hand. My philosophizing often includes stories about my daughter, so here's another "Millie story."...although Millie played youth soccer - just like every other kid in Northborough - she was never an athlete. In eighth grade,though, she took up lacrosse. Now, lacrosse is basically just running up and down the field waving a stick around. To get better at lacrosse, running helps. Millie took up running a couple miles a day on days she didn't have lacrosse practice. One day she returned home from a run and announced, "I have just learned that being in shape isn't a myth." Now that she was actually in shape, she felt the difference between being in and out of shape, something she hadn't quite believed before. Now she was convinced. Although since the stroke, I have believed that I would someday again be able to use my hand, now I'm convinced. It is no longer a myth, a pretty story I tell myself.
See the original article:
in
No comments:
Post a Comment