How to soothe a preteen girl

It's threatening to show itself...

My sweet daughter has had a rough year. She's been dealing with some really heavy shit that has been extraordinarily stressful and anxiety-producing. She has also been forced to talk about it with people other than me, which she absolutely hates. This is a girl who is extremely private and it has been excruciating for her. 

It has also affected school for her. It piled on. So school has been a trigger as well. 

Last week she became free from that process. We are also rapidly approaching the end of the school year. 

For some, this might have brought on a sense of relief. A feeling that you can finally relax and exhale.

For Josie, it has not been that. Instead, all of the tension and anxiety and trauma that she has been holding in for a year have come flooding out. Tears and feelings of despondency. It has been heartbreaking to watch.

Last night she seemed to be doing ok and then when I mentioned going to school, she broke down. The thought of going to school today overwhelmed her. We lay down on my bed and wrapped my arms around her while she cried.

"All of my friends are coming up to me and trying to comfort me, which is nice. But they keep trying to get me to talk about it, and I don't want to."

"Then you don't have to. Just say, 'I appreciate that you've been thinking about me, but I really don't want to talk about it.' That's all. There's nothing else to say. Nobody can make you talk."

She nodded but was still crying on my shoulder. I hugged her and let her cry.

"What can I do for you, honey? How can I help you feel better?"

She shrugged. 

Then the cat jumped on the bed and went into a downward dog position (downward cat?), with his paws stretched in front of him and his ass up in the air. It made me chuckle.

"Shall we ask Scooby if he would show us his butthole?" I asked. "Would that make you feel better?"

She started to laugh a little bit.

"Maybe if we ask really nicely."

She giggled some more. 

"I think we should ask him. I bet he'd be willing. You could use it. Buttholes are always funny," I continued. "I think they should be identified as a treatment for depression."

"Take two cat buttholes and call me in the morning," she said.

"Absolutely."

She started laughing really hard. 

"See? It's working already!"

"They should put it in the medical books."

"Here's what we're going to do," I said. "I'm going to take a bunch of pictures of Scooby's butthole. And then at random times during the day tomorrow, I'm going to text one to you. And it will keep you from feeling too down."

We continued that way for a while, laughing and joking around. She calmed down and smiled and went to bed. 

When I woke up this morning, the cat was walking around. I managed to take a few pictures of his butt even though he wouldn't sit still. 

I dropped Josie at school this morning and said, "be ready. They're coming."

She laughed and said, "bye mumsie. I love you."

"I love you too. And so does Scooby's butt."

And all was right with her world, at least for a little while. 

I was in a bit of a pickle, but give me a month.

 Greg and I were noodling about something fun to do this past weekend. He called me and asked, "do you think you would be able to handle the stairs at Red Rocks?"

Later, when I told Zeke about this, he laughed and said, "Damn, I love that guy."

And truly, his confidence in my ability to do just about anything is wonderful, and one of my favorite things about him. But in this case, it was too much. 

Now, for those of you who aren't from these parts (or have never been to Red Rocks), it is nothing but steep stairs. The seating is set into the rocks on a steep incline. You climb endless steep uneven stairs to get to the upper entrance, and then walk down steep stairs to get to your seat. If you go in through the lower entrance, you climb endless steep stairs once you pass through the gates. You walk up the hills from the parking lot, and then climb steep stairs from there.

So many stairs. So much steepness.

Red Rocks is a truly magical place to see a show. But three weeks out from knee surgery, I didn't see it as being anything but a miserable, grueling experience. 

"I think it would be really difficult for me," I said. "I can still only climb stairs one leg at a time. Getting up and down the stairs of my house is a pain in the ass. I love Red Rocks, but I don't think I'm ready yet. Give me a month."

So instead we went and drank whiskey (with pickle juice chasers) and listened to rootsy bluegrass at a funky general store in this mountain town up in the hills west of Boulder. 

I have long felt that as a society, we don't take enough advantage of pickle juice. It's great for replenishing electrolytes. It has a bright, tangy flavor. I grew up eating sour kosher dill pickles made with plenty of garlic and spice, and I would always suck the juice out of the pickle before eating it. It's the best.

What I didn't realize is that pickle juice chasers are having a bit of a moment. I googled it and found numerous recipes and articles singing its praises. Who knew?

Anyway, it's delightful.

As is hanging out in a small town general store, drinking, eating pizza, listening to bluegrass, and chatting with the locals. 

Everyone was super friendly and down-to-earth. It was a blast. It also did not require me to to climb any stairs.

But I wasn't kidding when I said to give me a month. The progress, she is steady. 

Every week when I go to rehab, the PT checks my range of motion and my stability, and gives me exercises for the coming week. I do the exercises as assigned. The next week, I've made improvement, so he gives me more and different exercises. I do them. The next week, I've made more improvement, so he gives me new exercises. 

Lather, rinse, repeat. 

I can now walk unassisted (no crutches or brace) with a barely perceptible limp. Today I started climbing up stairs with alternating legs, and it felt pretty good. I can't quite go down stairs with alternating legs, but I'll get there soon. I'm able to do short rides on the Peloton. I do wall squats and leg extensions with resistance bands to strengthen my quads.

When my injury happened, and when I was in my initial days post-surgery, I lamented that summer was coming up and I wouldn't be able to do all of the outdoorsy things I love to do in the summer, like hikes and bike rides. it was overwhelming and felt impossible. 

Now I think that I will be able to. I'm fairly certain I'll be able to climb a 14er for my annual Emma climb in September. I'm confident I'll be able to ski next season. 

And apres ski, I'll be sure to order my whisky with a pickleback. 

Day Ten: Humility, and why it's good to have a brother who is an athletic coach

 From an intellectual, left-brained perspective, I was and am fully cognizant of the road ahead of me, and prepared to walk it. From emotional perspective, reality kicked me in the gut.

Friday was my first physical therapy appointment. I walked in with my brace and my crutches, and was encouraged and energized by the room full of equipment. 

Let's go.

I lay on the table while Matt, my PT guy, manipulated my leg. First thing was to measure my range of motion.

"One week out, we want to see knee flexion at 90 degrees. And when you extend your leg straight we want a bend of less than 10 degrees. The extension is the thing we really want to focus on first, but you're going to be working on both. Your bend is at about 85 degrees, and your extension is at around 11 or 12. So you're in good shape. You're doing well."

The numbers are everything to me. I thought to myself, dude, you have NO idea how task-oriented I am. There's no way I'm walking out of here without hitting those targets. 

I was lying on my back with my left knee bent. I scooted my heel back towards my butt in small increments. 

Scoot scoot. Rest for 10 seconds. Scoot scoot. Rest for 10 seconds. Scoot scoot.

"Where is it now?"

He measured again. "Ninety degrees. Nice job."

Then he put a bolster under my Achilles heel so that my leg was extended as much as possible. I tried to focus on relaxing the muscles to let gravity work to pull the back of the knee down. It was extremely difficult and uncomfortable. I couldn't hold the position for more than a couple of minutes at a time.

"You're going to need to do this multiple times a day, trying to hold it for longer and longer as you can tolerate it." 

We did that for a while.

"Where's the extension now?" I asked.

He measured again. "Nine degrees. Excellent."

I mentally patted myself on the back.

We worked on a few other things. He unlocked my brace so that the knee would bend and I could start trying to use a more normal gait, bringing my left leg up to take a step and then landing with a proper heel-to-toe.

They use a digital system that sends exercises to an app, so he loaded up my account with exercises for the week. The app is great - it tracks your activity and includes video so you can follow along and imitate the movements.

I left feeling good. 

The next day, I did a PT session on my own, and I broke down and cried.

It was so hard. It was so humbling. I can barely lift my leg up from a lying-down position. I can't contract my quad muscle. There's one exercise that involves lying face-down on the floor and lifting the leg up, and it took all of my concentration to be able to lift it a tiny bit.

The dreaded leg extension

I felt like a baby learning to walk. 

I had a vision of the next 6 months. Limping along. Constantly being uncomfortable. Not being able to do anything. Feeling weak and puny.

It reduced me to tears.

Greg came over to help me move my ice machine down the stairs from my bedroom - basically, a little cooler filled with freezing cold water that flows through tubes into a pad that I can wrap around my leg. It's on a timer that I can set, so I ice the knee for 10-15 minutes every hour. It is my new favorite thing that I own. But I use crutches to get up and down the stairs, and I can't use the crutches and carry the ice machine at the same time. And if I can't get it downstairs, I'm stuck in my room all day, which is a drag.

When he came in, I lamented that I felt awful and weak and helpless. I hate that my muscles won't do what I tell them to do. I hate that I have to ask people to come help me with basic tasks.

He gave me a hug and assured me that I would get stronger and more self-sufficient. He said that it was ok to ask for help, and that I have many people in my life who love me and are happy to help me.

Later that day, I called my brother Josh. Josh had this same surgery about eight years ago, so he's a good resource and sounding board. He is also a high school lacrosse coach, so he's good at motivational pep talks. 

We talked about the rehab timeline and the experience he had. He said that full recovery would take many months. But I can't focus on the end goal or how long it will take me to get there. 

I have to take it one workout and one day at a time. Don't worry about increasing your knee flexion by 30 degrees. Try to improve by one degree. And then one degree the next day. It feels insignificant but it adds up. After a month, you've improved by 30 degrees. Treat the PT like any of the other exercise programs I've done. Do what's on the calendar for today, and then don't worry about it. Tomorrow, do the same thing. By the end of the program, you'll see the results.

I know this. Of course I know this. I've used those same principles to motivate other people. When one of the kids is overwhelmed by the fact that they're supposed to have read eight chapters of the book but are only on chapter two, I tell them, "just read one chapter. You can do one chapter. And when that's done, you can focus on the next chapter." 

But I needed to hear it from someone else, because I wasn't listening to myself. 

"Will you coach me through this?" I asked. "Could you send me a text or some kind of meme or whatever to help me stay motivated and on the ball? That's never really been my thing, but I think I need it."

"Absolutely," he said.

After we hung up, I ordered a whiteboard to put up in my workout room. I can track each day's workouts and write motivational quotes. 

I told Greg about this and he told me I was a nerd. 

"You like that I'm nerdy," I responded, laughing.

"I totally do," he smiled. 

On Sunday morning, Josh sent me an audio of clips of different motivational speeches by coaches. I did my PT sessions on Sunday, and felt good about them.

I love my brother.

I woke up this morning and did another session. I lifted some weights for shoulders and arms, and then got on the Peloton and did 5 minutes of partial revolutions back and forth (I can't yet do a full revolution in either direction). I use my right leg to push the pedals in each direction, getting as far as I can and then holding it for 10 seconds before going back the other way. I do this at least twice a day, and try to move a little further each time.

Giant nerd alert

I took the ice machine downstairs by myself and started work (I'm working from home after taking last week off). The whiteboard will arrive later today. I've got my set of colored dry-erase markers ready. 

Keep the motivational quotes and memes coming my way. I am in full dork mode and I am here for them. 

Day Five

Day one you're powering through on adrenaline and heavy drugs. There's still a lot of swelling and numbness that is keeping your body from feeling what you would actually be feeling after having tissue pulled from one of your muscles and stray fibers shaved from one of your ligaments and scopes and knives poking and prodding your knee. The narcotics are powerful. Things seem like they will be ok. 

It was a whole new ballgame on Day Two.  We had a nice morning when Greg came over for brunch, but after that, the swelling and numbness started to abate, the nerves started firing, and the pain flooded in. Like, the walls of a dam breaking - that kind of flooding. Notwithstanding that I was maintaining my scheduled regimen of drugs, on Sunday night it was so overwhelming that I lay on the couch crying and trying to breathe. It was like someone slowly was dragging knives into the inside of my leg between my knee and my groin - honestly the worst pain I've ever experienced in my entire life, including childbirth. My poor mother sat with me and stroked my hand and tried to talk me through it. I took some more Oxy and eventually was able to relax enough to get upstairs into bed.

pretty flowers from my coworkers

Monday was an improvement over Sunday, but anything would have been. I napped and watched Derry Girls. I had a phone consult with the PT, who assured me that what I experienced was relatively normal. I hadn't expected that kind of pain, and my big fear was that I had re-injured something, so talking to her was a big relief. She gave me some exercises to do, and I did them. The pain was easing up, so I decided to start weaning off the narcotics because they were starting to make me feel sick. 

swelling is going down

Yesterday was when days of constantly pumping my body with nasty chemicals caught up with me. I felt nauseated and groggy and couldn't eat anything. I didn't do much but lie around and resist my mother's efforts to feed me. I did, however, get tickets to the two Dead & Company shows coming to Boulder in June, so all-in-all, the day was a win.

waiting to be let into the website 

Today I have been off the Oxy for 24 hours. I feel much more human. I was able to take a proper shower by sticking a chair in the tub and wrapping my knee in Saran wrap. Mom and I walked over to Zorba's (a diner that's a block from my house) - or rather, she walked and I crutched - and we had some breakfast. Later I'm going to do my rehab exercises and lift some weights for my upper body, because I'm definitely using those muscles quite a bit.

using the time to learn by watching the new Ken Burns
docuseries about Benjamin Franklin on PBS

Baby steps.

Day One

The surgery went perfectly. The surgeon talked to Mom while I was still in the recovery room and told her that there was a little more damage than he initially anticipated, but he fixed it all and said I will make a full recovery. He was great. Before I went into the OR, we were chatting and I said, "how are you feeling today? Everything good in your life? Feeling confident and happy going into this operation?"

He laughed and said, "absolutely. We're going to crush it." And we did.

Pre-op, rocking the sexy socks.

But it was a rough evening. After I woke up, I was groggy and in pain. The anesthesiologist had focused on two nerves along the front of my thigh because that was where the bulk of work was going to be done, but it was harder for the pain medication to spread to the hamstring, which was where the tissue was harvested for the ACL reconstruction. 

That was the part that was in a ton of pain. They administered fentanyl and some other powerful drugs, but they wear off quickly. And the next thing I was allowed to take was Tylenol, and not until 8pm. I would be able to take another dose of Oxycontin 3 hours after that.

It was 5 o'clock.

Coming out of surgery is miserable. Your body is in trauma. You can feel it being angry at you. "What are you doing? Why? Whyyyy? Fuck you!!"

So I went home and suffered. It hurt to use the crutches. It hurt to sit. I had a hard time finding a position that was comfortable to keep my leg elevated that. 

Ouch.

Everything hurt.

But! 

There were positive signs. After a few hours, I got my appetite back and ate some toast and Greek lemon chicken soup. I found a comfortable position and turned on my cold therapy machine, which is the greatest contraption ever. My mom and I watched the women's Final Four, which was entertaining and distracting. 

And we got in bed and I took two Oxycontin pills and the world became a brighter place.

After I took the dose, I said, "Alexa, set a timer for 3 hours."

Three hours later I took Tylenol. 

"Alexa, set a timer for 3 hours."

Three hours later I took Oxy.

"Alexa, set a timer for 3 hours."

Three hours later I took Tylenol. 

Etcetera.

The hurt abated. My body calmed down and stopped cursing my name. I got some sleep. 

When I woke up, I read my post-op instructions. Today I am to continue icing my knee. I am to get up and move around every 2-3 hours. I am to try to bear some weight as I am able. I am to start working on range of motion, slowly bending and straightening my knee and raising my leg several times a day.

So I got up and moved around. A couple of times I stood straight on the leg without the crutches. I laid down in bed and bent my knee - range of motion was pretty good. I raised my leg about ten times. I made it down the stairs on crutches. The knee doesn't feel stable, but I wouldn't expect it to today. The hamstring hurts, but with the meds the pain is tolerable. 

All in all, I'm encouraged. Here we go.