If like me this morning, you struggle to exercise, find your motivation. Motivation is the key to so many goals in life, finding the right one for you is personal. What makes others do things may not work for you. So, spend a bit of time thinking about it, the more motivated you are the more likely you are to suceed. But remember, your motivation may change over time. Take note of if you are tiring of something, check in with yourself and see if your motivation has changed.
On this occasion, my motivation was to walk properly again. I was going to say walk again but that sounds altogether to dramatic but at the time that is was it felt like. After my climbing accident and faulkeson osteotmy, the delights of which I will share with you another day. I was told it would take a year to heal and for the screws in my shin to be fully set. I left hospital with a leg brase and a zimmer frame. Came home to my recently installed chair lift, at the ripe age of 33 and wondered how on earth I would get through this.
To begin with my physio ecersices were very basic and very very painful but my motivation, fortunately outweighed the pain. I was going to walk again, even if it killed me. Not sure that would have benefited anyone but nonetheless, that’s how determined I was. Before I had the surgery, I was told one leg would now, likely be shorter than the other, I may never walk properly again, have a limp and possibly end up in a wheel chair. I slowly and calmly looked at the consultant and said, “You don’t know me.” I don’t know about you but if someone says to me I won’t be able to do something, that alone can be enough motivation to prove them wrong.
Everyday, after the kids had gone to school and Murray to work, I lay alone in bed, that was until our magnificent Rhodesian Ridgeback, Rio, sauntered up the stairs and lay at the end of the bed, on the floor that is, he was so large he would have crushed me had he actually got on the bed and my plight would have been infinitely worse. The dogs weren’t allowed upstairs but Rio was a) a law unto himself and b) clearly knew I needed the support.
One of my exercises was to place a rolled up hand towel under my knee, lift my heel off the bed until my leg was straight. I hadn’t been able to do this since the accident, 18 months beforehand. It had taken that long for the problem to be diagnosed. When I fell, my knee cap had been knocked out of alignment and the tracking was out, the aim of the operation was to fix the issue. Shin bone sawn in half, knee cap moved, two screws to secure it in place, the jobs a gooden.
I pulled myself up to a sitting position, lent up against the padded blue headboard, looked ahead of me at the full length mirrors on the wardrobe doors. I hated the fact they were they, I was staring at myself, watching me fail. I tended to do the exercises looking down so I couldn’t catch sight of my reflection. Weirdly, it became a useful choice as I would stare at my kneecap, imagine it moving the way it needed to, visualize my quad muscle springing into action and think how it would feel for my heel to rise. My quad hadn’t sprung into action since the accident, the muscle atrophy was extensive, the largest part of my thigh was now only thirteen inches in circumference, thats thirty three centimetres, which is, currently, the size of my calf muscle. I had a long way to go and the only way to do that, a minute at a time.
I sat there, staring down at my withering leg and attempted a heel lift. I had sweat running down my side where my armpits were leaking. Tears running down my cheeks where my eyes were leaking. My face was contorted, I was groaning, retching, squirming, swearing and my butt was sinking deeper into the mattress under the strain, so much so I thought I would become engulfed. All this to no avail. My heel was still steadfastly stuck to the bed. I wrapped the belt from my dressing gown around the ball of my foot and pulled the heel off the bed. This at least proved that the function was possible. I used all my might, every bit of brain power, (remember I had no leg power) I had to hold my leg there, released the belt and wallop it slammed back down on the bed. Hopeless!
“Rio” I whimpered. My beloved, dog, whose grandeur never failed to impress, arose from his slumber, stretched and sauntered (he loved to saunter) around the bed so his face was next to mine. Looked at me from under his heavy eyebrows as if to say, “You got this mum.” And I hugged him, felt his warm breath and reassuring smell, halitosis, all was not lost, some things never change. I released my grip looked deep into his soul and thanked him. He knew his job was done, reversed, (there wasn’t enough room for him to turn his vast stature around), went back to the end of the bed. Curled up and went straight to sleep. His gentle snore filling the air. I sat back up, stared back down at my knee and started again.
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Thanks, Liz
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For anyone reading my posts who has a story in them they are struggling to tell. I would recommend getting Anne Lamott’s book ‘Bird by Bird’. It has inspired me to create this challenge and is full of great knowledge and insight. She also has a wonderful sense of humour and writing style.
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Surgery and Prosecco 