Limps, Signs and Placards.

So this whole *writing almost every day for the world to see* thing is still pretty challenging. I have a ten-page running Word doc open with ideas galore. But as soon as I say “Ok, organize this and hit publish” all that comes up is “Uhhh, what should I write for the first sentence?” So once again, here is a boring opening paragraph that will surely draw you in.

How about I fill you in on what is happening in the life of that Chick girl? Today I found out my knee is ready for surgery. When I tore my ACL and all that other fun stuff, the swelling my knee was so severe that I had to wait to have surgery so that I wouldn’t traumatize my knee again too soon and risk possibly never getting my full mobility back. Ironically, just barely a week after the incident, my doctor recommended that I should start walking on it without my crutches or brace. This was supposed to improve my pimp walk… I mean, get my knee strength back. Initially it was painful and awkward. Now, after two weeks and going to physical therapy, it feels like its back to normal… almost. Randomly I'll get this feeling that my knee wants to give out or it actually buckles. It’s also accompanied with a wave of nausea… But it passes and I’m back to moving again. I’ve noticed however, that if I sit at my work desk for too long it will stiffen up and I look like Frankenstein on her way to the bathroom. (One coworker has nicknamed me *Stumbelina*)

Since this happened almost three weeks ago, I’m pretty sure I’ve manage to tell everyone in my office (by the onesies) why I was walking with such a funny limp AND why my doctor says I should be walking on it. I work in an office environment that bears an uncanny resemblance to a Dilbert comic strip mixed with a hint of Office Space; So no matter how inconspicuous I tried to be, someone as graceful as me on crutches just wasn't going to go by unnoticed. That first week I felt like holding up a sign that says, “Why yes, I am on crutches and wearing a huge leg brace. It’s from a skiing accident. Not sure what is wrong yet. Hurts a lot.” Last week I felt like having a sign that stated, “Torn ACL. Torn Meniscus. Strained MCL. Bone fracture in Tibia. I did good.” This week the big question has been, “When are you having surgery!?” to which my sign would say, “Cleared for surgery. Date unknown at this time.” But I'm not sure I can actually set up a sign like that at work so I'll stick to telling people when they ask...

One of the biggest things I have taken away from this injury is that I think I would have loved being an MRI tech or working somewhere that designs biomedical devices. Things like the TENS unit has thoroughly intrigued me and I couldn't stop talking to the MRI tech about how it worked. But since I honestly have no desire to go back to school just yet, nor could I afford to spend any more money on school, I’ll put that one on the back burner. Funny though, had this injury happened a lot sooner in my life I wonder if I would’ve pursued careers in those areas. 

But moving on... Have I told you that because of this injury I now have a handicap placard for my car? At first when I was on crutches that little wheelie guy was a blessing. Now that my knee is starting to get better I feel a little embarrassed getting out of my car without having any physical symptoms showing I need it. Some days it will stiffen up on the drive to where ever I’m going so I do get a funny limp when I get out of the car but lately it doesn’t look like I’ve done anything to deserve that sweet parking spot near the door. It’s only a three month temporary placard and I’m sure after my surgery I’ll definitely need it but for now I feel a little guilty using it.... Well, until that moment my knee buckles and I want to cry and vomit at the same time.

I suppose that’s all I have for you today. I could go on and tell you about my latest addiction to having hot coco every afternoon but I’m pretty sure I just saw your mouse move towards the “X” in the corner of the screen so I’ll take that as my cue to peace the hell out.

*Insert snazzy sign off here*

You have to start somewhere.

I swear the first sentence is always the hardest. So since I've already knocked that out, let’s discuss something that made me want to smack myself in the face this weekend.

As I last left off I told you I wanted to move forward and really start to make changes. This past weekend I was cleaning my condo and after staring at my bedroom for a while I started to think that if I bought a new comforter and maybe some sheer curtains that would brighten up my room, I would feel better. But here’s the thing. I don’t have any money to spend on such purchases but I got it in my head that I wouldn’t feel better till I had new bedroom décor. So off to Amazon I went in search of a décor that would brighten my room and therefore my life. But after setting up my shopping cart and getting ready to hit purchase I paused and realized I felt this guilt. I don’t have the money for this stuff so what makes me think I can possibly afford any of this. My room is fine. It’s my attitude that needs to change. If I want to brighten my room, why don’t I open those dusty blinds and maybe add some $7 flowers… And that my friends, is what I did.

I’m pretty sure you could classify me as a binge shopper. My credit card debt would tell you such too. Before my surgery last October I went into this whirlwind of shopping like crazy… I had to have this shirt to feel better, I needed the latest face cream from Ulta to not feel stressed, hell, a pair of boots would make me feel confident… I spent over $200. I already felt the guilt of spending so much money as soon as I got home and saw my damage. I kept the tags on everything and after my surgery, when my head was clearer, I returned everything. “Anything wrong with these items?” Nope. “Reason for return?” Over-zealous shopper…

I almost made that same mistake this weekend and updated my bedroom. I’m slightly proud of myself for not actually buying anything but the fact I go in these moments of extreme shopping needs to stop. My credit card debt is nothing to be proud of. I’m almost 26 and the weight of all that debt combined with my student loans is starting to get heavy. It’s time to grow the hell up.

A lot of times before going to bed, I wonder what I would do if I didn’t have any debt, if I didn’t have almost $1200 a month going to loans… I dream of someone coming up to me going “Here, I paid off everything, go live your life!” or what it would’ve been like if my parents had paid for my college. I buy $2 scratch tickets every now and then with the feeling of “This is the one. With this ticket, I am totally going to win the max $20,000 and start to get my life together.” I rarely win over $2. I did win $40 once and I thought hell yes! I’m on the road to the big winnings… and then it’s back to random $2 winnings…

 I dream of getting out of debt quickly but in reality, I did a lot of damage and similar to losing weight, it didn’t happen in a day and it’s going to take a lot of work and determination to lower that number again. And in all honesty, it’s time to realize no one is going to pay off my debt for me. If I put as much time and effort as I did into hoping and dreaming and buying scratch tickets, I would probably be out of credit card debt by now… My student loans? Ya well I’ll probably have those for another 28 years…

It's time to realize I can get out of most of this debt with slow wins. Eating out less. Only going grocery shopping for what I need. Staying the hell away from Target haha. Sometimes this is easier said than done. Like in those moments with friends, its easy to say yes to dinner AND drinks. In my last post I mentioned that I’m realizing its time to say No to things. The more I say No to little things like a new comforter, curtains or that glass of gin and tonic, the more I might be able to say yes to bigger things, like say vacations… tropical vacations. Haha we’ll see… A tropical vacation is a long ways away from happening; Maybe what I needed all along was some $7 tulips.

First Step.

Sometimes when I’m driving or relaxing or sitting at work, I write amazing and awesome blog posts. In my head though. Never pen to paper or keyboard to Word. And what frustrates me the most is that I’ll have this amazing story and when I finally get to typing it in… it’s all gone. I know for me personally writing is healing for me. But sometimes, when life gets crazy, the thought of actually writing tires me out. Then I get to a breaking point and write like my life depends on it and things start to become clear again. So why am I constantly putting off something so simple?

This weekend I’ve decided its time to just write. As much as I can. Whether it’s to vent, to make a statement, or to share a story about my life, I’m going to just write it down. Here specifically. And like I said in my last story, I have come to terms that I am not the blogger that will have all those amazing photos. I tried, and failed. But I did try. I think the camera on my phone breaking and being completely unable to “open” was my last straw.

Also things this blog will probably never be. A crafty, designer blog. Or even a fashionista blog. I don’t have a very fashionable wardrobe of clothes… If anything I like to call my style comfortable. I don’t need to get dressed up for work so I don’t focus on cute blazers, heels or curling my hair. And I’m ok with that. You probably won’t find any advice or tips or daily exercise plans here. I doubt I will ever run a marathon or do anything of the sort.

But what you will find is me. Trying to figure things out. Recapping moments in my life that have shaped me into the person I am today. A 25 year old (almost 26) that’s pretty broke. Who is finally learning it’s time to say no to certain things so that better things can happen. You’ll find I’m basically stumbling through life. I have a lot of good things going for me but a many times I have a hard time finding the positive. I seem to get stuck in finding the negative and sometimes I wonder if I like it. But I know I don’t want to be that way. I hope by writing here, for the world to see, I will be reminded of all the good things I do have and how much I have left to accomplish. I have noticed lately that, for lack of a better phrase, I haven’t stopped to smell the roses. I find myself just passing through life. Weeks have gone by and good intentions have passed but I haven’t actually accomplished things or even noticed the time has passed.

I feel lethargic about life a lot. I stay in bed a little too long too often. I think I’m content with literally doing nothing but then I have regret that I’ve wasted so much time. I joke that I don’t want to be a lifer in this area or this job or something… but I haven’t been actively doing things to change that. It’s time to change and get out of this rut. I know I’m missing out on great opportunities, even if it’s just getting coffee with a friend. I know with writing, I’ll be able to see things clearly and start to map out my next moves. And maybe along with writing more, the funny stories I know I have deep inside of me will be able to come out faster. And maybe I will evolve to become a different type of blogger.

But this is my first step, an easy one… just writing.

Honest, raw, uncategorized, sometimes boring, sometimes epic, random writing.

This is why we can't have nice things... Like limbs.

I’m going to start off this story with a bang. Are you ready?

I tore my ACL... along with my meniscus (which is a funny word to say), fractured my tibia and finally, tweaked my MCL.... Sounds lovely right? I would love to explain things to you with amazing pictures of me in the ER with my knee that resembled the size of a watermelon, or pictures of me on my crutches being even more pathetic and what not. But alas... I'm not that type of blogger. I am horrible at taking pictures and don't think of these things till they've long passed... After many attempts of trying and forcing myself to take more pictures, I have come to terms I will never be that photographic blogger. And besides I'm muuuch better at Paint.

Skiing.

Born in New England I was basically pushed out of the womb with ski’s already strapped my legs… No, that’s a lie. But I did start skiing when I was five years old. Which I realized this year means I’ve been skiing for 20 years. Holy crap I’ve been skiing for 20 years…. That’s a long time. It’s also a long time one has enjoyed a hobby without injury.

Well I’ve been skiing *almost* every year since I was five. Because it’s a freaking expensive hobby and last year I had a good excuse because New England barely got any snow… But not this year… This year we were blessed with ridiculous amounts of snow storms (including a blizzard) and I decided to ignore my economic situation and hit the slopes three times this season!! It was great… *was* being the keyword.

On my third and fateful ski trip of this year, it was just me and my best friend and we were having just a grand ole time. Each run felt great. I mean honestly, I don’t know how to describe it… skiing that is… just that moment of flying down the slopes and the wind biting your face. The feeling of cutting into the snow and controlling it. Gah. I love it and yes, I realize my description doesn’t do it justice.  And maybe I’m alone in this, but my favorite part of skiing is the song that gets stuck in your head. I always seem to get a song stuck in my head that only magically starts playing in my head as soon as I start down the trail. I sing along and find myself just getting into a groove that’s me, the song and my skis cutting and digging into the slope… anywho, I digress… Simply put… Skiing is absolutely one of my favorite things.

So like I was saying… We were having a great time. As it was nearing the end of that particular mountain’s ski season, not many people were on the slopes with us for Friday night skiing. It also seemed that whoever was there, they stayed mostly on the terrain park. This in all honesty, was fine by me… I've learned a long time ago that Stacey’s don’t possess the agility and gracefulness that is required for jumps. For the most part I try to keep my skis against the slopes as much as possible. 

*If I was a good blogger I would have an actual picture of us, but since that is not the case, here is a lovely Paint version. 

While everyone was on the terrain park, my friend and I had found this one trail that I was absolutely in love with and had just about no one on it. Each trip on the chairlift I asked if we could do that run again and again. I’m pretty sure we hit that trail about 5 or 6 times in a row.

*Since I'm already in Paint I might as well keep pretending there's more pictures of the night...

But to get to this particular trail we had to the pass the terrain park and on my way to this amazing trail for the final time, I caught an edge just right that caused my right ski to immediately turn to the left while the rest of my body decided it was going to keep going straight… I fell pretty quickly and as I went down I felt that wave of nausea as my knee popped and crackled. My friend told me later that he was about 15 yards away and heard the pop. Yuck.

I went into an immediate panic though. I’ve fallen before, and even had fallen earlier that night. I know I lack the gracefulness that is falling and getting back up on skis… sometimes I just end up being pathetic and sliding down the mountain a little bit more than necessary but I still manage to get back up. For this fall however, I was in this weird shock where I couldn’t feel my knee but I could feel pain. I knew something was wrong and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to stand up again. I yelled for my friend to help and was worried he had skied too far away and down the trail to help me. Luckily he wasn’t far.

He was able to help me up but when I went to put weight on my right leg, it was so painful that I almost had fallen over again. I realized in that moment that I wasn’t going to be able to ski back down, so my friend skied down and alerted the snow patrol that I need assistance. While he was gone I was wondering if maybe I was milking it and that maybe I wasn’t actually hurt but more shocked I had fallen a little harder than I normally have. I tried to stand up again and was flooded with more pain. Dammit, this was the real deal.

Ski patrol showed up and after assessing the situation, I was strapped to a sled that snow patrol skied down.  I would like to say it was fun but all I can remember is being so upset (read: pissed) that I was ratcheted to a  sled with a yellow tarp and more importantly, that I couldn't stand up on my own.

Unfortunately, the night of pain didn’t end there… I’m not sure if you, the reader, are familiar with ski boots, but they are an underappreciated device for torture. While skiing is wonderful and amazing, putting on a ski boot is never quite easy. And taking it off, well for me… it’s a mix of panic of “GET OFF BEFORE MY FOOT CRAMPS UP” to a relief of “I can move my ankles again, how fun”. But taking off a ski boot while the muscles and tendons in your knee and leg are already cramped up and in pain, I began considering chopping the whole leg off. I wasn’t very lady-like in those moments following my fall on the mountain and in the ski patrol office. I was actually reminded at one point that “This is a *family* resort”…

Once the boot was off, there wasn’t much they could do except recommend we go to the hospital… On the way to the hospital I started to wonder, again, if I had made a bigger deal of this than it really was. My co-pilot now-chauffer said we were going to the hospital regardless…. Which I’m glad he did.

At the hospital the doctor asked, since I was still in my ski pants and leggings, if I could take my pants off. I immediately told him he would have to buy me dinner first…  (And this was before I was given the fun meds!) Well after a short laugh from everyone, everyone started helping me undress and in that moment I heard my mother’s voice in my head… you know, something about “Always wear clean, good underwear because you never know who’s going to see” or something like that…. I was fortunate to find myself in something nice and conservative… And in this moment right now, I’m wondering why I am telling the world about my underwear.

ANYWHO! Upon taking off my pants…. It was pretty clear I had done a lot of damage. What should’ve looked like my right knee now looked like someone had replaced with a skin colored watermelon. I was taken in a gurney, in all my glory mind you, to get x-rays. The x-rays didn’t show much except that I didn’t break any bones but because of the swelling they could assume I had torn something (s). I was sent home with some fun meds, a huge leg brace and some crutches…. They did let me leave with pants on so that’s was a plus.

Needless to say, the rest of the weekend was a blur. I do remember that at the hospital they had given me some fun meds before I left the ER. It’s a little known fact that while fun meds relieve my pain; they cause me to get quite emotional. Upon seeing a flight of stairs I began crying and I couldn’t fathom how I would get up them…. Insert *first world problems* here.

After spending the weekend icing, sleeping, and crutching around (Side note: apparently *crutching* is a word, I thought for sure I would get squiggly lines under that one…), I met with an orthopedic doctor who set me up with an MRI appt. From there we learned all the wonderful damage I had done. Completely torn ACL, two tears in my meniscus (Still a fun word to say!), I had severely sprained my MCL as well as had a non-displaced fracture in my tibia just below my knee. Luckily the MCL and the fracture will heal on its own. The meniscus might also heal on its own as the tears are still within areas that get blood supply. The ACL unfortunately, that will require surgery… womp womp.

I’ll find out in a next week when I’ll have surgery. So far, it’s been about two weeks since the ski incident and I’ve gotten better at moving around; People say I have definitely perfected my *pimp walk*… As if I need an excuse to draw more attention to myself, I’ve added a hint of swag….