I also don’t know what to write about other than the pain.  It has taken up most of my life these past couple of months.  Yesterday my physical therapist pushed me pretty hard.  There was one exercise I simply couldn’t  do because it hurt so bad.  I’m making steady progress but it is going so slowly that I’m getting frustrated.  The good part about PT is that the floor is slick enough I can work on pivots.  So long as my foot is right on the pivot point on the bottom of my shoe, my ankle doesn’t catch.  Just the slightest lip of traction sends a jolt of pain right through my foot.

The visible scars are healing well.  I have three.  The longest one is the scariest because you can see the holes where all the sutures were.  There are two small ones on either side of my foot.  I’m not sure but I think one is from the arthroscopic tenosynovectomy.  Doesn’t really matter.  Internally, I feel things starting to loosen up as my tendons are slowly learning how to do things again.  I suppose it helps to have a virtual obstacle course in my own house.  I’m also walking on uneven surfaces whenever I go down the driveway to the bus stop.  My foot gets a workout all day long.

I haven’t publicly admitted to being slightly depressed.  So I guess that’s what I’m doing now.  I hate that I don’t have the energy to do much more that sit with my foot propped up after getting the kids off to school.  Timothy has been watching more television than any toddler should be allowed to watch.  He gets food all over the place no matter how many times I make him take his snacks back into the kitchen.  The second I got up to go to the bathroom yesterday he took his spagettios into the living room and spilled most of them all over the carpet.  He also refuses to wear clothes for most of the day.  But that’s more amusing than anything.  And practical considering he is trying to make progress using the potty.

Wow I’m a Debbie Downer today.  I’m broken and I want to be fixed.  I miss that Zumba high I would get after class and the sweaty hugs from all my friends.  I know I’ll be back soon.  It just can’t seem to come soon enough.

Tell you what, though: I’m definitely looking forward to my first non-fat Pumpkin Spice Latte of the season. How did the weather know it was PSL time?  I might dig around in my cabinet and see if I have any cans of pumpkin left from last year.  I managed to make some really good imitation PSL in my crock pot last year.  So good.  On a similar note, the Samuel Adams Harvest collection is out and the pumpkin beer is really good.

Alright. I’m gonna see if I can muster up the energy to make myself some breakfast.

Happy Thursday, y’all.

Corey came home with a clarinet.  He had decided long before he even started middle school that he wanted to take band instead of choir because he already sings with the church choir.  Not being one to want to push him in directions he doesn’t want to go, I left all the decision-making up to him.  Even the choice of instruments was completely in his hands.  I didn’t suggest any particular family of instruments either (I played both the flute and the French horn throughout my school years so it didn’t make much of a difference to me).  Personally, I love the sound of the clarinet and I hope he sticks with it.

Simon has made excellent progress in Kindergarten.  Pre-K was an absolute nightmare and he came home at least once a week with referrals.  I was also called to come pick him up on numerous occasions because of his insolence.  This year, he has been so well-behaved that I honestly think someone may have switched our little Imp with an angel.

Aiden.  Oh, Aiden.  That child is chock full of imagination and mischief.  I have several stories to tell that I’ll get to in some later posts.  They involve socks, rockets, and singing feet. In the meantime, I must post this picture he drew last night. (Click to make it bigger)

Timothy is slowly learning how to use the potty. I think he’s taking a break this week because he’s been all sorts of snotty. Allergies are running rampant throughout the household and I pulled two boogers the size of peas out of his nose this morning. When he is feeling more himself he is actually able to make it to the toilet. I’m quite impressed.

Jamie is busy. Busy busy busy with school, both his own that he teaches and the classes he just started at ASU. He decided to go back to get his Specialist degree so he can earn tons more money. Feeding four boys has turned out to be more of a drain on our bank accounts than the current gas prices.

Lucy and I have been fighting about her sleeping habits.  There was a laundry basket at the foot of our bed that I used to keep all my Zumbawear in back when I washed it every other day.  Of course, it was just sitting there with a mish-mash of other clothes but she was sleeping in it all the same.  So yesterday I pulled out her laundry basket (the one with all her kitty blankies that she hasn’t been using) and I put it in place of the other one.  Then she went out into the living room and climbed into a different laundry basket!  The nerve!  I decided then to wash all the blankets and put them back in the basket as if they were freshly-washed laundry.  I win.

Finally, me!  As of today I am done with my big ugly Cam boot.  I graduated back into my lace-up brace and have permission to drive again.  This is fantastic news for pretty much everyone.  I was bumming rides off of everyone I knew to get to and from rehearsals and concerts, doctors’ appointments, and anywhere else I needed to go.  Jamie was tired of having to pack everyone up just to take me all the way downtown.  Frankly, I was too.  I miss driving.  The van is currently in the shop, though, so I’ll have to wait another day or two to actually get to it.  The air conditioning was dying.  I found it to be cruelly ironic considering this has been the hottest summer in eight years (according to one local weatherman).

I also took a break this week from nail art to get myself a set of gel nails with French tips.  My poor nails were looking haggard without polish.  Using a base coat was helping but as the weak, peeling, yellow part of my nails were growing out, they just kept breaking.  It wasn’t the polish that was peeling and chipping–it was my nails.  So I sucked it up and went for fakes.  I’ve tried acrylics a few times in my life but never really liked the way they felt.  I do like the gels.  They’re thick but just as thick as my natural nails are when I pile on all the layers of polish I usually use.  I’m going to give these another day or two and gussy them up a little.  Right now I’m enjoying the simplicity of this manicure.

Procedure #1: Athroscopic Synovectomy

The MRI done on my ankle showed excess fluid surrounding the joint (more than normal).  This is the major cause of my ankle impingement, decreased range of motion, and the pain/swelling that still occurs at the end of the day.  The synovectomy will remove the excess fluids around my tendons to free up the space and hopefully give me back the flexibility I originally had before my sprain.

Procedure #2: Modified Brostrom

I have ankle instability.  The joint itself is loose because of the number I did on my ankle during the sprain.  My tendons are all out of whack so if I don’t get this procedure done, I’ll most likely sprain it again and again.

A Broström repair is specifically for the tendons of the lateral ankle, that is, the tendons of the outer ankle near the foot. If you reach down and touch the protruding bone on the outside of the ankle, the tendons just between this bone and the foot stabilize the ankle. These lateral tendons-the anterior talofibular ligament (ATFL) and the calcaneofibular ligament (CFL)-are what keep the foot from rolling inward and the leg from rolling outward. These tendons are also the focus of the Broström procedure.

In the original Broström surgery, the anterior talofibular ligament (ATFL) was shortened and repaired and, in some patients, the calcaneofibular ligament (CFL) was also repaired. This shortening of the tendon holds the bones of the ankle joint in place similar to tightening down the straps on cargo hauled on a truck. The original series of patients in which this report was based was very successful-eighty percent of patients enjoyed success with the Broström repair.

In the 1980s, a surgeon by the name of Gould made alterations to the Broström surgery. This increased the success rate and expanded the number of patients that could be treated with this surgical approach. In the Gould-Broström surgery or the Modified Broström surgery, a tough, fibrous tissue called the extensor retinaculum is folded over the lateral ankle joint in order to further stabilize it. This approach and subsequent modifications like the Chrisman-Snook modification have been particularly successful in ballet dancers who suffer repeated stresses to the ankle joint and often require surgical ankle stabilization.

These are both outpatient surgical procedures so I won’t be in a hospital.  I will be put under general anesthesia and sent home once I’m stable.  I’ll hobble around on crutches until my follow up appointment where the doctor will make sure the incisions are healing.  Then I’ll be put in a walking cast and begin physical therapy a couple weeks later.  Blessedly, Jamie is home for the summer (hooray for teachers!) so he will be taking care of me.  I’ll miss my Zumba pals severely, but will stalk everyone online.

As always, food and visitors will be welcome while I recover. (Hint: http://mealtrain.com/)

One more week!  I’m losing sleep over this surgery.  The anxiety I feel is tangible.  But I can only hope that this will solve my ankle problems forever and I’ll have a long Zumba career once I’m fully recovered.

I’m having surgery on my ankle on July 21.  And I’m not happy about it.

Spraining my ankle a couple months ago has turned out to be one of the worst things that ever happened to me both physically and financially.  We’ve racked up medical bills for x-rays, splints, physical therapy, and the latest is an MRI that we have to pay out of pocket because we haven’t met our deductible.  Fortunately, we can set up a payment plan which I can only guess is what we’ll have to do with the surgeon and anesthesiologist when it comes time for my procedures.

Finances aside, I am trying to maintain a positive outlook on my recovery.  I need to remember that it will be a time for healing, not a time for mourning.  I’m going to miss my friends. The majority of my friends are Zumba pals who I only see in class.  I consider them colleagues as well as friends even though we’ve never done anything aside from Zumba together.  Well, they have.  But they’ve known one another longer and live closer.  I’m way out in the country which leaves “dropping by” to the family that live next door.

I can say the same for church friends.  I envy the people who can drive two minutes to their friends houses and can get together at the drop of a hat.  That envy has been a hard pill to swallow for many years.  I have only had one friend since moving out here that would come by on a regular basis and whenever she didn’t have much to do.  I lost that friend, though.  She moved away and I was so hurt that I destroyed the friendship before she left.  Burnt bridge.  Not that I haven’t tried to find her. She was living in Louisiana before the hurricane so I don’t know where she went after that.  The last time I talked to her I think I was newly pregnant with Simon.  It was an awkward phone call.  My cell phone number hasn’t changed in eight years.  I hope she wrote it down.  I know how “losing” numbers is easily done whenever a new phone is acquired.

Oh, but I didn’t mean to make this a post about her.

This is about me!

My sister and life coach started a list of things to do while I’m a gimp and I’m going to take her up on it.

1. knit some shit!
2. like one of these: http://www.internet-d.com/2009/02/13/willie-warmer/
3. write a short story
4. draw a comic book about a man who goes to the moon only to discover that the dark side of the moon is a series of underground caves inhabited by people the government “deported”
5. write your own madlibs and then have your kids fill them out
6. crossword puzzles
7. play scrabble with me on your iphone
8. braid your hair into hundreds of tiny braids
9. http://theoatmeal.com/comics/bobcats_monday

Holy Week was nothing like I imagined it would be. I had visions of dark chocolate bunnies and egg-shaped Reese’s cups dancing through my head every night.  Not to mention the French fries I had given up for Lent. On Good Friday, Jamie had the day off work so we took Timothy shopping for groceries and outfits for Sunday. All-in-all, Friday was a good day. Both of my Zumba classes had good turnout and I was grateful for fantastic workouts.

Saturday morning was met with a great crowd at Curves after which I zipped downtown to take my friend Christina’s Zumba class. That’s pretty much when all hell broke loose. I rolled my ankle while jumping because the floor was a little sticky from the humidity. I had a fantastic cry in the bathroom for a minute then finished out the class with about 40% of the enthusiasm I usually bring.

On the way home, I had to stop by Wal-Mart (ugh) to try the Dr. Scholl’s foot mapping machine for a review.  They only had the machines at Wal-Mart or I would have gone anywhere else.  It took a minute to find the darn thing and then about 10 minutes for it to finally give me a reading and suggested insert.  More about that in a future post…

Well, we all know what happens when one goes to a superstore; it’s like a black hole and there is no way you can get out without purchasing a billion things you didn’t go in there to get. I bought myself an ankle brace while I was there in addition to the food I needed for the crop I was late getting to–at my own house no doubt.

Cropping was fabulous. I played with the new Creative Cuts tool and finally finished my album about our trip to Maine in 2005.  There was only one page left to do with one of the only pictures of me taken while we were there. Now that we have a new printer I was able to print the picture call that project COMPLETE.

By the end of Saturday, I had little to no voice. It started going early in the afternoon for no apparent reason. I’m blaming allergies even though the Prompt Care doctor wrote “pharyngitis” on my check-out slip.  I posted my problems on facebook that night and begged for an Easter miracle. Unfortunately, I woke up Sunday morning with absolutely no voice. This meant, of course, that the solo I was supposed to sing at both services was cancelled and my soprano section had to get along without my leadership. I could eek out maybe five notes but anything above a D was a crap shoot.

After I told my choir director and she stared at me like I was playing a cruel joke on her, I shut myself in the bathroom and cried. And then I cried almost every time someone asked me if I was okay. It was so frustrating, disappointing, sad, etc.

I was broken. Not my ankle, thank God, just my spirit. After church, I excused myself from the Easter festivities to get some drugs for my ankle & throat then went home to sleep it off.

My Curves ladies were wonderful last night even without my being able to give them verbal instructions.  They rely on my directions a lot but did really well with physical cues.  In a regular Zumba class I try not to give verbal cues a lot anyway, so it was a good exercise in non-verbal cuing.  As for the ankle, Zumba in the Circuit is low-impact. I’m keeping it wrapped to prevent further injury and hopefully I won’t have a sticky floor in tonight’s classes.

So here I sit with a rainbow of pills inside of me so I can smile on the outside. Timothy will be waking up from his nap any minute so I suppose I should close this by telling everyone that I’m now addicted to looking at beauty and makeup blogs. I’m suddenly obsessed with eye makeup and all its possibilities. I even gave myself a virtual makeover on the Mary Kay website, complete with a ridiculous hairdo. Enjoy!

After my little crisis a few days ago, I feel better knowing that I am almost on my way.  I met my goal of losing nearly thirty pounds by the time I turned thirty.  I could not have done it, though, without Zumba.  It changed my life.  My friend Mary Ann introduced me to Zumba way before I was pregnant with Timothy.  I felt I needed time off from it, though, and during the year after Timothy’s birth, I pretty much held on to all of the baby weight–it redistributed itself into my butt and thighs.

Once I committed myself to a fitness goal, the pounds really started melting away.  I had to seriously commit, though.  Now that I’m here, I want to take it one step further: teaching.  I want to share Zumba with the world!  Heck, I’m up there twice a week so I might as well get paid.  I am terrified, yes, but I have so much support from friends and family that I can’t turn back now!

I am $35 shy of my workshop fee.  After that, if I want to attend the December 12 workshop in San Pedro, CA, I’ll need airfare.  The tentative plan is to fly to San Diego where I’ll stay with my lovely sister Thryn, we’ll drive up to San Pedro where I’ll obtain my coveted Zumba instructor certification, and I’ll fly back.  Airfare will steadily increase as the days tick by so I need to raise money FAST.  Plus, if I commit to the Zumba workshop in CA before it sells out, I don’t want to have to cancel if I can’t afford to go.  The workshops sell out quickly so I want to register before I lose my chance.

How can you help?

There are a few things one could do:

• Click on the Donate button over on my sidebar and contribute a few dollars.
• Visit my personal Creative Memories website and do a little shopping for yourself or for others.  You can even dream up some Christmas cards in the Digital Center.
• Spread the word!

I am so excited about being a Zumba instructor.  Not only will I be helping people get fit and healthy, I hope to bring just a little bit of joy to their lives as they dance their butts off–almost literally.  Zumba makes me happy.  :)

It was pretty simple, actually.  We changed our e-mealz plan to the low-fat plan and once I had adjusted to a higher dose of Zoloft, I was no longer terrified of getting out of the house and into a couple classes at the Y.  I try to get into the gym at least twice a week.  A typical week consists of Monday night Zumba & Yoga, Tuesday night Pilates, and Friday night Zumba & Yoga.  Now that they’ve cancelled the Advanced Yoga class, I had to scratch that off my Tuesday night schedule.  There is a Zumba class to go to after Pilates that I tried last week.  Maybe I’ll keep going to that.  We’ll see.

One of the biggest things I actually did to keep myself on track was to write down everything I ate.  Everything.  I spent all summer keeping tabs on my calories in vs. calories burned.  I have a free app on my iPod & one on my phone so I can make sure not to overdo it when we go out to eat.  But I indulge every now & then.  I have to!  I try to do it sensibly, though.

All-in-all, I’ve lost twenty pounds since the beginning of Summer.  I can proudly wear some of the jeans that I was about ready to give up.  Woohoo!

Writing this made me want a cheeseburger.  That sucks.

Untitled by alonis, on Flickr

The Advanced Yoga class that was brand new a couple months ago got cancelled.  Granted, there was a big demand for another Zumba class.  I’m not a hater–I take at least two Zumba classes a week!  But I was just starting to fall in love with my advanced yoga class.  It was challenging in a way that I had never been challenged before.   Without this class, I would never have ever found the confidence to try Bakasana (crow) again.

What I can take away from these short few weeks is a newfound core strength.  Before Simon &  Timothy were born, I practiced regularly both in and out of class.  I lost the dedication to my practice and what I learned from the advanced yoga teacher helped me to be more self-motivated.  In fact, while Timothy napped yesterday, I grabbed my mat and went through a long practice that had me breathing through Bakasana for a good minute.  And I wasn’t terrified of falling on my face.

I’m also really close to an unassisted headstand.  At least I have that going for me…

Communication skills: we’re working on them.

The bruises I have on the back of my arm are actually from yoga.

“But isn’t yoga supposed to be relaxing???” you may ask.

Why, yes!  Advanced yoga is quite different, though.  The class I just started taking a month or so ago is more workshop-style.  We spend the first half of class warming up by flowing through Surya Namaskar A & B (sun salutations).  Once we finish, we work on the advanced pose du jour.  Bakasana, or Crow, has always, always, always given me trouble.  Coincidentally, my yoga teacher absolutely loves arm balance poses.  It makes sense that she should be the one who finally pushes me into finding my balance again.  I have always been terrified of falling on my face as it hovers four inches or so over my mat–it has happened.  It isn’t Bakasana that gave me the bruises, though, it’s Astavakrasana (Eight-Angle Pose).  Even though I have been doing yoga on and off for over ten years, I have never tried some of the more advanced poses.  I was able to do it, yes, but not without consequence.  The “practice” part of yoga is what gave me the bruises since it took a few tries to wrangle my limbs in the proper places and manage to squeeze my arm with my legs.

Anyway, before you go calling the cops, just know that I did this to myself.

And it was worth it because I pulled it off and then was able to get into this pose.

edited to remove Flickr pics. My bad.