Today, August 9th, 2018, marks exactly five months post-surgery. If you ask the doctors, this puts me past the halfway point, where the original timeline they gave me is 7-8 months until full recovery. If you ask anyone who plays ultimate who has had a similar injury, they would put me right around the halfway mark, saying that you usually need to add a few months after when the doctors clear you before you would be fully ready to get back on the field. Regardless, I've come a long way from where I started.
In my last post, I had just been given the green light to start running. My first run was on the Alter-G, a specially designed treadmill that creates a bubble around the lower half of your body to relieve some of the impact when running. Running at 80% of my total weight, I went for a total of two miles, alternating between a fast walk and a medium paced jog every tenth of a mile. From there I went to running on a normal treadmill at full weight, again going for two miles, alternating every tenth of a mile. It was a very weird sensation. You kind of forget how often you run until you haven't done it for 3 months. Even if you aren't playing a sport or exercising, you still run pretty frequently. Maybe you're just crossing the street and see an oncoming car, or are walking home and it starts raining, or accidentally get too close to a bee's nest. In any of those cases, I simply just had to accept my fate and continue walking.
From about the time I had started walking again to when I was just getting cleared to run, I had been working with Mike, a trainer at UPMC who also works with the Steelers. As training camp had arrived, he had to leave to focus entirely on the Steelers, so I was traded off to a woman named Cara. Since the trade, things have happened very quickly.
I went from alternating every tenth of a mile with Mike to running 10 minutes straight with Cara. I did that two or three times before they bumped me up again to 15 minutes straight, which is what I currently do as a sort of warmup. There are a few phases left in my recovery. I still have agility, jumping, and cutting. After a few sessions with Cara, she tested my leg strength to see if I could move on to agility. I had to have at least 92% strength in my bad leg compared to my good leg, measured by getting my one-rep-max in both leg press and knee extension. I amazingly hit 100% strength in leg press and 93% in knee extension.
Since I had done so well on my testing, not only did I move on to agility, but Cara said she would test me again in only two weeks to see if I could be cleared for jumping, which requires 95% strength. Agility is some simple footwork drills using mini-hurdles and an agility ladder. I've only done it twice as of writing this, and it has a similar feeling to when I first started running. It is definitely a strange sensation, and the little lateral motion that I'm doing seems to go against my natural instincts to protect the knee. Regardless, it suffices to stay that I finally feel like I'm making big improvements in my recovery. It doesn't seem too long ago that I was going up and down stairs one at a time, doing everything I could to not stress the leg too much. Just last week I moved out of my house, carrying a whole spread of heavy things up and down stairs.
With the rate of my improvement lately, I'm hopeful that I'll be back at 100% earlier than expected. When I first got injured my goal was to be healthy by the team's first Spring tournament in February, 11 months after surgery. Now, I'm hoping that I can be back to practice after winter break, closer to 10 months post-surgery. It's not a huge jump in the timeline, but I'll take anything I can get at this point. These months have gone by a lot faster than I had expected, and with school starting back up soon, these last few are going to fly by. I'm feeling a lot better physically, and more importantly, mentally. This has not been easy by any means. I'm closing in on the end of this journey, and I couldn't be more excited to get back on the field.
Thursday, August 9, 2018
Monday, June 4, 2018
Mental Game
Its been almost exactly three months since my injury, and I'm really starting to get into the swing of things. PT has shifted from focusing on motion to focusing on strengthening (thank god), and we've started seeing some big improvements. My leg is no longer shrinking, going up and down stairs is relatively easy again, and I don't feel the need to sit down every 10 minutes. 3 months was the original checkpoint they gave me for when I would be cleared to start running again, and my surgeon just gave the green light to my trainer to slowly start implementing some running exercises over the next 3-4 weeks. I'm still less than halfway to a full recovery (which is 7-8 months according to the doctors, and 10-12 months according to anyone who has ever played ultimate), and while the physical aspects of my recovery seem to be going well, that is really only half the battle.
Mentally, the last few weeks have been tough. As most of you know, my frisbee team competed at the National Championships in Milwaukee over Memorial Day Weekend. Coming in as the 3rd seed in our pool, and 9th overall, we managed to win our pool, upset the #1 overall seed, and finish 2nd the country. It was an incredible run by the guys, and it was a pleasure to be a part of. At the same time, it was tough to have to sit it all out. Since my injury back in March, I have felt slightly separated from the team. I still went to practices and tournaments, was in all the huddles, and still helped adjust and adapt our defensive and offensive schemes, but it was still different. Nothing brings a group of people together more than battling it out on a practice field with each other. Sitting on the sidelines through that is alienating. I want to be out there with my friends, grinding it out, working towards a common goal.
During the entire weekend at Nationals, I was constantly wondering what reaction I would have when our season came to an end. Last year I was pretty emotional. A tough loss to UMass ended our season, and it was the last time I'd get to play with Carl on Pitt. This year I wasn't sure what would happen. I hadn't played for the majority of the season. Last year it felt like maybe I could have done more to help the team. Maybe a few extra days in the gym or reps after practice would have made a difference. Obviously, that wasn't the case this year.
When we lost in finals, initially I was fine. Some of the guys who had been playing were immediately emotional, and rightfully so, but I barely winced. We went through the handshake line grabbed our stuff, and moved off the field so the Women's final could start. Off to the side of the field, we met up with friends, fans, and family. People were hugging their parents, their teammates, and whoever else. Sure I was bummed that we hadn't been able to bring home the gold, but I was still pretty non-emotional. When we then moved inside to do our final cooldown stretch of the season, and we went around the circle that I finally broke down. One of my coaches mentioned how proud he was of me and a teammate (who had also not played all season due to a knee injury) and our ability to continually show up to practices, and still want to participate after all of the other shit we were going through. Plenty of people over the last few months have reached out and offered their condolences and checked up on me, but hearing it come from a coach, at that time, really hit home for me.
As we sat there it really started to hit me. Some close friends would be graduating, and it was the last time we'd wear our Pitt jerseys together. A combination of emotions about my knee, our season being over, and the sense of pride in how well performed all hit me. We sat in that circle for a long time. A lot of guys had a lot to say, and everyone wanted to hear every last word of it. This team is something special and most people will never get to experience anything like it.
It has been a tough season, but never for a moment did I think of quitting. There have been days where I haven't wanted to go to PT, or have been jealous of my teammates for being able to go out and play the game I love while I'm stuck on the bench, but straight up quitting has never been an option. Ultimate is a hilariously significant part of my life. From early in my high school career it has shaped me as a person and continues to do so to this day. I've met so many incredible people and had so many incredible memories through this sport that I could never just up and quit. There is going to be many more mental challenges in the coming months, but I just have to remember what I'm working towards, and why I love this sport so much, and I'll be just fine.
Mentally, the last few weeks have been tough. As most of you know, my frisbee team competed at the National Championships in Milwaukee over Memorial Day Weekend. Coming in as the 3rd seed in our pool, and 9th overall, we managed to win our pool, upset the #1 overall seed, and finish 2nd the country. It was an incredible run by the guys, and it was a pleasure to be a part of. At the same time, it was tough to have to sit it all out. Since my injury back in March, I have felt slightly separated from the team. I still went to practices and tournaments, was in all the huddles, and still helped adjust and adapt our defensive and offensive schemes, but it was still different. Nothing brings a group of people together more than battling it out on a practice field with each other. Sitting on the sidelines through that is alienating. I want to be out there with my friends, grinding it out, working towards a common goal.
During the entire weekend at Nationals, I was constantly wondering what reaction I would have when our season came to an end. Last year I was pretty emotional. A tough loss to UMass ended our season, and it was the last time I'd get to play with Carl on Pitt. This year I wasn't sure what would happen. I hadn't played for the majority of the season. Last year it felt like maybe I could have done more to help the team. Maybe a few extra days in the gym or reps after practice would have made a difference. Obviously, that wasn't the case this year.
When we lost in finals, initially I was fine. Some of the guys who had been playing were immediately emotional, and rightfully so, but I barely winced. We went through the handshake line grabbed our stuff, and moved off the field so the Women's final could start. Off to the side of the field, we met up with friends, fans, and family. People were hugging their parents, their teammates, and whoever else. Sure I was bummed that we hadn't been able to bring home the gold, but I was still pretty non-emotional. When we then moved inside to do our final cooldown stretch of the season, and we went around the circle that I finally broke down. One of my coaches mentioned how proud he was of me and a teammate (who had also not played all season due to a knee injury) and our ability to continually show up to practices, and still want to participate after all of the other shit we were going through. Plenty of people over the last few months have reached out and offered their condolences and checked up on me, but hearing it come from a coach, at that time, really hit home for me.
As we sat there it really started to hit me. Some close friends would be graduating, and it was the last time we'd wear our Pitt jerseys together. A combination of emotions about my knee, our season being over, and the sense of pride in how well performed all hit me. We sat in that circle for a long time. A lot of guys had a lot to say, and everyone wanted to hear every last word of it. This team is something special and most people will never get to experience anything like it.
It has been a tough season, but never for a moment did I think of quitting. There have been days where I haven't wanted to go to PT, or have been jealous of my teammates for being able to go out and play the game I love while I'm stuck on the bench, but straight up quitting has never been an option. Ultimate is a hilariously significant part of my life. From early in my high school career it has shaped me as a person and continues to do so to this day. I've met so many incredible people and had so many incredible memories through this sport that I could never just up and quit. There is going to be many more mental challenges in the coming months, but I just have to remember what I'm working towards, and why I love this sport so much, and I'll be just fine.
Sunday, May 6, 2018
Baby Steps
It’s been a while since my last post, where I had just started the rehab process. I wanted to document the earlier parts of the recovery better, but school and frisbee got the better of me, and I spent enough time worrying about my knee as is, so it seemed overkill to take more time out of my day to write about it. Now that I’m off for the summer hopefully I can write these posts on a semi-regular schedule.
Anyways, since my last post, my recovery process has come in baby steps—quite literally. Four weeks post-op I was cleared off my crutches. The doctor also cleared me to bend my knee past 90 degrees (not that I was even able to do so at the time), along with unlocking my brace so that I can bend it when sitting/walking. Its been another 4 weeks since that appointment, and I’m starting to gain back some of the muscle definition in my leg, bending the knee is becoming a little more natural, and walking is starting to look normal again. I've also been partially cleared out of my brace, so I no longer have to wear it around the house or if I'm only walking a short distance.
All that being said, I honestly don’t feel a whole lot better. My leg still feels incredibly fragile. One wrong move and it feels like I could reinjure it. Obviously, it no longer hurts to bend the leg to a certain extent (my top score so far is 101 degrees…I started at about 65), and I can definitely do more than I was previously able, but I still feel very much injured. The knee is still stiff and swollen, and the leg as a whole is still very weak. Even with the muscle definition starting to come back to my leg, it is still significantly smaller than the other one. I happened to weigh myself the other day, and I’ve lost 15 pounds. If I had to guess, I’ve probably lost closer 20 pounds of muscle in my leg and gained 5 pounds of fat elsewhere. My leg has a long way to go before its even close to my other one, and there is going to be a lot of obstacles to overcome before I can really start working on getting my full strength back.
Before I can even really work on strengthening the leg, I have to work on its motion. Along with only being able to bend my knee to about 100 degrees, it also doesn’t want to fully straighten out. Let me tell you, working on motion fucking sucks. There are two aspects of motion: extension (straightening) and flexion (bending). For some base measurements, my healthy knee hyperextends to about -3 and bends to about 150 degrees. My injured leg is anywhere from 3-7 degrees when I walk into PT, depending on what I’ve been doing before my appointments. By the end of the session, it’s usually around 0 degrees. Every appointment starts with my propping my heel up to put air under the knee and then putting a 5 pounds weight directly on the knee. I sit there doing quad sets (flexing the quad for 3 seconds at a time) for 6 minutes. From there my trainer will come over and work on my knee, pushing around the kneecap and trying to break down some of the scar tissue. If the trainer decides they want an extension measurement, they’ll call over another trainer to literally push down on my knee as much as they can while the original trainer takes the measurement. They managed to push my knee down to -5 degrees of extension, which is more than my healthy knee can extend, meaning it fucking hurt.
There have been appointments that have really sucked. Recently they made me lay on my stomach with my knee bent, so my foot was in the air. Then my trainer pushed my foot forward, bending my knee to the point where I was getting lightheaded due to the pain. By the end of it, I was practically to the point of tears. That wasn't even the last exercise I was supposed to do that day. Another guy who was also going through ACL rehab was sitting a few tables over from me asked his trainer if he would have to do the same thing I was because it looked terrible. I sure hope not man, that shit sucked.
I know a few too many people who have gone through similar rehab processes, and I’ve always thought I realized how shitty of a situation they were in, but this is really so much worse than I expected. My leg is fucked. It's honestly amazing how much damage you can do to yourself. I didn’t collide with anyone. I didn’t fall from anything. I just planted and changed direction and two months later and I’m barely a quarter of the way through my recovery process. This is definitely a test of my mental and physical fortitude. Some days are better than others, and there’s a long road ahead of me. I’m doing what I can to stay positive and do as much PT outside of my appointments. I’m getting better. I have to focus on the small improvements. Fixating on the long-term goals right now is demoralizing. I have to crawl before I can run. Baby steps.
Wednesday, March 21, 2018
The Beginning
The pain has subsided for the most part by now. The worst of the recovery is over. Now it's time to rebuild. It's incredible how quickly muscular atrophy happens. Two weeks of putting no weight on my leg, and it is already significantly smaller than my other leg.
I've had a couple PT appointments since surgery (which was a week and a half ago at the time of writing this) and I'm already starting to see some improvements. When I first started some exercises, I could barely move my leg. Straight leg raises were out of the question. I would stare at my leg and literally could not figure out how to get it to move it. Its a super weird feeling to be trying so hard to move a limb that you've been able to move your whole life, only to get no response back from it.
I managed to do a successful leg raise at my post-op appointment. It took a good 20 seconds to get all the muscles engaged, but once they were firing my leg went up! Since then things have only gotten better. Swelling has gone down, range in motion in the knee is increasing, and I'm gaining some strength back. While my leg is much smaller than it was before, I now have regained some of the definition in the thigh muscles and they don't feel like jello when I poke them anymore. Now it's more like a raw chicken breast. Improvements!
I'm reintegrated back into my normal life. I've moved back into my house in Oakland, going back to classes, and generally trying to lead a normal life again. While I was never particularly bad with the crutches to begin with, I'm definitely getting better at getting around on them. Stairs are no longer a daunting task, and my ability to use my crutches as a pair of giant chopsticks to reach things from across the room is really coming along. I managed to hook a hoodie from like 10 feet away the other day, it was pretty sweet.
The toughest part is definitely getting to classes. Pitt offers a disability shuttle to help get around, but it's only sort of helpful. I have it scheduled to pick me up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from my house to drop me off on the other side of campus for class, and it'll pick me up and the end of that class and drop me off at the Cathedral where my next class is. The problem is that I then have 15 minutes after my class in Cathy to hustle over a couple blocks to my next class, and while its usually only a 4-5 minute walk, that distance is tough on crutches. I managed to make it to class with 1 minute to spare on my first attempt, but it was not easy.
Even worse is my Monday/Wednesday class in the Cathedral. I couldn't get the shuttle to pick me up on those days, so I have to crutch the half mile (I looked up the distance on Google Maps) to class. Luckily it's my only class of the day, and it's at 3pm, so I just leave around noon and go about half way before I take a break and just do some work in Posvar for a few hours before I finish the trip. Even still it is a hell of a workout, and I think I'll have to start bringing an extra shirt to change into when I get to class because I've been sweating through whatever I'm wearing the last couple times I've made the trip.
Overall things have gone pretty well, all things considered. The fact that I still am relatively immobile (or at least the fact that moving is still definitely a hassle) has given me plenty of time to catch up on work. I'm still figuring out the best strategy for accomplishing some stuff, like grocery shopping and laundry, but I've had so many people offer to help me with anything that I'm not too worried about it.
I actually want to talk about that for a little bit too. All the support I've gotten so far has been incredible. So many different people from different parts of my life have reached out. Old friends that I haven't talked to in a while to people that I barely know have sent me messages or told me in person that they are there to help. I got added to an ACL recovery support group that consists of Pittsburgh Ultimate community members who have gone through the same process, and they have been super helpful too. Not only have they given advice and answered any questions I've had, but they've also lent me my knee brace and cryo-cuff, which are both essential to the recovery process.
I've been really appreciative of all the support. An injury like this sucks, and it's nice to know I've got people out there ready to help. From the out of town friends reaching out to give their support, to the teammates and friends who stop by my house to give me some company while I binge watch March Madness, they have all made the recovery process much more manageable.
I know I still have a long road ahead of me, and I don't want to get too ahead of myself on knowing where I stand physically, but I know that with the continued support I'll be able to get through this just fine.
Thanks guys.
I've had a couple PT appointments since surgery (which was a week and a half ago at the time of writing this) and I'm already starting to see some improvements. When I first started some exercises, I could barely move my leg. Straight leg raises were out of the question. I would stare at my leg and literally could not figure out how to get it to move it. Its a super weird feeling to be trying so hard to move a limb that you've been able to move your whole life, only to get no response back from it.
I managed to do a successful leg raise at my post-op appointment. It took a good 20 seconds to get all the muscles engaged, but once they were firing my leg went up! Since then things have only gotten better. Swelling has gone down, range in motion in the knee is increasing, and I'm gaining some strength back. While my leg is much smaller than it was before, I now have regained some of the definition in the thigh muscles and they don't feel like jello when I poke them anymore. Now it's more like a raw chicken breast. Improvements!
I'm reintegrated back into my normal life. I've moved back into my house in Oakland, going back to classes, and generally trying to lead a normal life again. While I was never particularly bad with the crutches to begin with, I'm definitely getting better at getting around on them. Stairs are no longer a daunting task, and my ability to use my crutches as a pair of giant chopsticks to reach things from across the room is really coming along. I managed to hook a hoodie from like 10 feet away the other day, it was pretty sweet.
The toughest part is definitely getting to classes. Pitt offers a disability shuttle to help get around, but it's only sort of helpful. I have it scheduled to pick me up on Tuesdays and Thursdays from my house to drop me off on the other side of campus for class, and it'll pick me up and the end of that class and drop me off at the Cathedral where my next class is. The problem is that I then have 15 minutes after my class in Cathy to hustle over a couple blocks to my next class, and while its usually only a 4-5 minute walk, that distance is tough on crutches. I managed to make it to class with 1 minute to spare on my first attempt, but it was not easy.
Even worse is my Monday/Wednesday class in the Cathedral. I couldn't get the shuttle to pick me up on those days, so I have to crutch the half mile (I looked up the distance on Google Maps) to class. Luckily it's my only class of the day, and it's at 3pm, so I just leave around noon and go about half way before I take a break and just do some work in Posvar for a few hours before I finish the trip. Even still it is a hell of a workout, and I think I'll have to start bringing an extra shirt to change into when I get to class because I've been sweating through whatever I'm wearing the last couple times I've made the trip.
Overall things have gone pretty well, all things considered. The fact that I still am relatively immobile (or at least the fact that moving is still definitely a hassle) has given me plenty of time to catch up on work. I'm still figuring out the best strategy for accomplishing some stuff, like grocery shopping and laundry, but I've had so many people offer to help me with anything that I'm not too worried about it.
I actually want to talk about that for a little bit too. All the support I've gotten so far has been incredible. So many different people from different parts of my life have reached out. Old friends that I haven't talked to in a while to people that I barely know have sent me messages or told me in person that they are there to help. I got added to an ACL recovery support group that consists of Pittsburgh Ultimate community members who have gone through the same process, and they have been super helpful too. Not only have they given advice and answered any questions I've had, but they've also lent me my knee brace and cryo-cuff, which are both essential to the recovery process.
I've been really appreciative of all the support. An injury like this sucks, and it's nice to know I've got people out there ready to help. From the out of town friends reaching out to give their support, to the teammates and friends who stop by my house to give me some company while I binge watch March Madness, they have all made the recovery process much more manageable.
I know I still have a long road ahead of me, and I don't want to get too ahead of myself on knowing where I stand physically, but I know that with the continued support I'll be able to get through this just fine.
Thanks guys.
Monday, March 12, 2018
Surgery
I remember always having the thought that surgery was kind of cool. Sure it probably sucked, but now you're part of some special group of people with cool scars and some interesting story to tell.
Yeah, that was a stupid thought. This shit is not fun at all.
Almost exactly six days after the injury I was being carted off into the annals of UPMC Mercy to have my knee reconstructed. Dr. Lezniak, my surgeon, had strongly suggested that I get the surgery as soon as possible. My lateral meniscus was actually fully torn and had been folded over itself, causing it to be pinched by my leg. Due to this, I wasn't able to really bend/move my leg without a decent amount of pain, so he was concerned that the longer I wait for the surgery, the more my leg would deteriorate. If it had just been my ACL, I could have delayed the surgery until I was ready, but since I couldn't put any weight on my leg, I was scheduled for surgery the day after my initial appointment with Dr. Lezniak.
I'm now 3 days out of the operation and bored out of my mind. Most movement of the leg still causes a considerable amount of pain since the stitches are still in, so 90% of my days have been spent by me sitting in one place and moving as little as possible. March Madness has been keeping me somewhat sane, but there is only so much basketball I can watch before I lose my mind. My mom has also been taking incredible care of me, making me food, helping me move from one resting spot to the next, and whatever else I have asked her to do. I've never been one to ask for help, so I'm already exhausted of asking for help with the tiniest of favors. I can't even count how many times I've had my mom get up and walk across the room to grab me the remote, or my phone, or take the dishes from me. I know she doesn't mind, but it makes me feel incredibly useless.
I have a follow-up appointment later this week where they are planning on taking out the stitches, and I'm hoping after that I'll be in much better shape. As of now I'm doing some very basic exercises to mitigate the muscular dystrophy, but hopefully once the stitches come out I'll be able to kick it up a notch. I just want to be able to do basic tasks on my own again. The pain meds they gave me have made it hard to focus anything specific for an extended period of time, so I apologize if this post isn't my best writing. I'm slowly starting to wean off the medicine and hope that I shouldn't need it after the next couple of days.
Until then I'll just continue to sit in my living room, leg elevated and hip cramping. There isn't any basketball on for another day now since the bracket has finally been set, so I'll need to find some movies or something to pass the time. I just watched Boss Baby. It was pretty good.
Yeah, that was a stupid thought. This shit is not fun at all.
Almost exactly six days after the injury I was being carted off into the annals of UPMC Mercy to have my knee reconstructed. Dr. Lezniak, my surgeon, had strongly suggested that I get the surgery as soon as possible. My lateral meniscus was actually fully torn and had been folded over itself, causing it to be pinched by my leg. Due to this, I wasn't able to really bend/move my leg without a decent amount of pain, so he was concerned that the longer I wait for the surgery, the more my leg would deteriorate. If it had just been my ACL, I could have delayed the surgery until I was ready, but since I couldn't put any weight on my leg, I was scheduled for surgery the day after my initial appointment with Dr. Lezniak.
I'm now 3 days out of the operation and bored out of my mind. Most movement of the leg still causes a considerable amount of pain since the stitches are still in, so 90% of my days have been spent by me sitting in one place and moving as little as possible. March Madness has been keeping me somewhat sane, but there is only so much basketball I can watch before I lose my mind. My mom has also been taking incredible care of me, making me food, helping me move from one resting spot to the next, and whatever else I have asked her to do. I've never been one to ask for help, so I'm already exhausted of asking for help with the tiniest of favors. I can't even count how many times I've had my mom get up and walk across the room to grab me the remote, or my phone, or take the dishes from me. I know she doesn't mind, but it makes me feel incredibly useless.
I have a follow-up appointment later this week where they are planning on taking out the stitches, and I'm hoping after that I'll be in much better shape. As of now I'm doing some very basic exercises to mitigate the muscular dystrophy, but hopefully once the stitches come out I'll be able to kick it up a notch. I just want to be able to do basic tasks on my own again. The pain meds they gave me have made it hard to focus anything specific for an extended period of time, so I apologize if this post isn't my best writing. I'm slowly starting to wean off the medicine and hope that I shouldn't need it after the next couple of days.
Until then I'll just continue to sit in my living room, leg elevated and hip cramping. There isn't any basketball on for another day now since the bracket has finally been set, so I'll need to find some movies or something to pass the time. I just watched Boss Baby. It was pretty good.
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
The Injury
I've replayed the event in my head hundreds of times since it happened. I'm in the end zone, running to my left. The disc is thrown behind me, so in an attempt to make a play, I plant on my left leg to jump backward and grab the disc. My foot sticks in the ground, my knee twists, I feel some popping. The next thing I know I'm on the ground holding my knee, in the most pain I had ever been in. I knew instantly that it was dislocated. As the trainer, Ken, eased my hands off my leg and slowly straightened it out, I felt a couple thunks as it popped back in place. Ken proceeded to ask me a couple questions, seeing if I could feel certain pokes and prods, wondering if I could kick against his hand, wondering if I could put any weight on it. I had full feeling, but that was about it. They carried me off the field and loaded me into my dad's rental van and we set off to the hospital.
Fuck.
Things have been flying by since then. I decided it was in my best interest to skip out on the team spring break trip and instead fly back to Pittsburgh. Flying cross-country with a bum leg that I can't really move or bend without using my arms sure makes it tough to fit on a plane. I sat in an aisle seat so that I could stick my leg out, but I was afraid that someone would trip over me at some point so I managed to swing my leg under the seat in front of me. Six hours of flights and one aggressively cramped leg later, I landed in Pittsburgh at 9:00am Monday morning, where my mom picked me up. We headed home, ate some food, decompressed as much as I could, and then started calling doctors' offices to schedule an appointment as soon as possible. We managed to get one scheduled the same day at 2:00pm. The doc took some x-rays, poked and prodded some, and told me an MRI was definitely needed. No shit. I scheduled the appointment on the drive home for the following morning.
As my mom had to head to work, I recruited Cyd to help get me to Presby for my appointment. After she drove me there, I headed in and was quickly taken back to change for the MRI. Oh yeah, changing is really hard. Again, I can't really bend or move my leg, so taking off and putting on pants takes a lot of effort. The MRI operator found me sitting on the floor of the changing room slowly sliding the hospital pants on. He sat me down in a wheelchair and shuttled me off to the MRI. 30 minutes of laying motionless and its over. The operator tells me the doctor should receive the images later that afternoon so I could schedule the follow-up appointment for the following day. Cyd picks me back up and we head to her house to laze around. I schedule the appointment at there for noon on Wednesday.
At around 2:00pm Cyd drives me back to my mom's house where I start watching some of the Ultiworld filmed games from Stanford, because what else do I have to do? Halfway through watching the UNC vs. Oregon semi-finals game, I get a call from the doctor who is looking at my MRI results. He proceeds to tell me what I already basically knew. Everything is fucked. A torn ACL, a sprained PCL, a partially torn MCL, a complex tear in the medial meniscus, and a partial tear in the lateral meniscus. I don't even know what half of that shit is. He says I don't need the follow-up appointment on Wednesday, and instead says I'll be scheduled for an appointment with a surgeon on Thursday.
At the time of the call it had been a little over 72 hours since the injury. I had been so excited for Stanford. My 2nd year on the team, the first year as a starter. An O-line starter, at that. I played a whopping 2 points before it happened. The score was 2-3 in the first fucking game of the day. Now it'll be in the range of a year before I can get back on the field.
So now I'm just sitting here, leg elevated so that my knee is above my heart, wondering when the surgery will be. How much school will I miss? How am I going to get to class? When will I be able to walk?
I like to think I've been handling this pretty well. I had plenty of time to wallow during my flights back to Pittsburgh, and at this point I think I'm over the fact that I'm not going to be able to play this college or club season. Honestly, I'm a little surprised I'm not more upset. Anybody that knows me knows that ultimate is basically all I do outside of school. I guess it's still going to be all I do but in a much different capacity. I'll be taking on some sort of coaching role for Pitt, and we'll see what I do for the club season. I still plan on getting to the gym once I can physically get myself there and lifting what I can.
But for now I'll just be taking it day by day. Figuring out which of the hundred different positions I've tried putting my leg in is the most comfortable (none of them are). Hopefully the surgery is scheduled soon so that I can get on to the road to recovery as soon as possible.
Onwards.
Fuck.
Things have been flying by since then. I decided it was in my best interest to skip out on the team spring break trip and instead fly back to Pittsburgh. Flying cross-country with a bum leg that I can't really move or bend without using my arms sure makes it tough to fit on a plane. I sat in an aisle seat so that I could stick my leg out, but I was afraid that someone would trip over me at some point so I managed to swing my leg under the seat in front of me. Six hours of flights and one aggressively cramped leg later, I landed in Pittsburgh at 9:00am Monday morning, where my mom picked me up. We headed home, ate some food, decompressed as much as I could, and then started calling doctors' offices to schedule an appointment as soon as possible. We managed to get one scheduled the same day at 2:00pm. The doc took some x-rays, poked and prodded some, and told me an MRI was definitely needed. No shit. I scheduled the appointment on the drive home for the following morning.
As my mom had to head to work, I recruited Cyd to help get me to Presby for my appointment. After she drove me there, I headed in and was quickly taken back to change for the MRI. Oh yeah, changing is really hard. Again, I can't really bend or move my leg, so taking off and putting on pants takes a lot of effort. The MRI operator found me sitting on the floor of the changing room slowly sliding the hospital pants on. He sat me down in a wheelchair and shuttled me off to the MRI. 30 minutes of laying motionless and its over. The operator tells me the doctor should receive the images later that afternoon so I could schedule the follow-up appointment for the following day. Cyd picks me back up and we head to her house to laze around. I schedule the appointment at there for noon on Wednesday.
At around 2:00pm Cyd drives me back to my mom's house where I start watching some of the Ultiworld filmed games from Stanford, because what else do I have to do? Halfway through watching the UNC vs. Oregon semi-finals game, I get a call from the doctor who is looking at my MRI results. He proceeds to tell me what I already basically knew. Everything is fucked. A torn ACL, a sprained PCL, a partially torn MCL, a complex tear in the medial meniscus, and a partial tear in the lateral meniscus. I don't even know what half of that shit is. He says I don't need the follow-up appointment on Wednesday, and instead says I'll be scheduled for an appointment with a surgeon on Thursday.
At the time of the call it had been a little over 72 hours since the injury. I had been so excited for Stanford. My 2nd year on the team, the first year as a starter. An O-line starter, at that. I played a whopping 2 points before it happened. The score was 2-3 in the first fucking game of the day. Now it'll be in the range of a year before I can get back on the field.
So now I'm just sitting here, leg elevated so that my knee is above my heart, wondering when the surgery will be. How much school will I miss? How am I going to get to class? When will I be able to walk?
I like to think I've been handling this pretty well. I had plenty of time to wallow during my flights back to Pittsburgh, and at this point I think I'm over the fact that I'm not going to be able to play this college or club season. Honestly, I'm a little surprised I'm not more upset. Anybody that knows me knows that ultimate is basically all I do outside of school. I guess it's still going to be all I do but in a much different capacity. I'll be taking on some sort of coaching role for Pitt, and we'll see what I do for the club season. I still plan on getting to the gym once I can physically get myself there and lifting what I can.
But for now I'll just be taking it day by day. Figuring out which of the hundred different positions I've tried putting my leg in is the most comfortable (none of them are). Hopefully the surgery is scheduled soon so that I can get on to the road to recovery as soon as possible.
Onwards.
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