Anniversary Number Three

I never imagined that my recovery from my climbing accident on October 31st, 2010 would include two frozen shoulders, a broken pelvis, four hearings with the Department of Labor and Employment and a $7000 repayment fine, deciding to never climb again, selling my mountain bike, and weekly physical therapy. I thought I would be completely back to functioning as an athlete in two years. I still see myself running one of these days! At this point, how long things take doesn't have a hold over me anymore.  I just keep doing the work and trust.

During this journey, what I've hoped for all along is insight into how to be my truest self which is what I continue to receive with each set back and each step forward. In all of the unfairness of bureacreacy, the burden of out of pocket medical bills and rebuilding my business, tears over set backs, pain and loss of an identity, I've been given the gift of a greater appreciation for reality. As it takes heat to transform clay, it is taking adversity to wake me up to what it means to be myself and do the one thing I am here to do.

I am thrilled to be alive and look forward to celebrating my third anniversary! I plan to celebrate with Matt in remembrance of the outpouring of love and support I received from the Community and that I survived. What I am most grateful for is the peace I feel inside this year compared to the past two anniversaries.

IN SHOCK to have a broken pelvis

The fear of falling has never left me. I've fallen at least six times since my climbing accident. None of them were a big set back until this week.  This fall was a major one. It is as big of a jolt as when I learned I had a second frozen shoulder.
I was heading home after riding my mountain bike in the mud and snow. My first time out in those conditions. My confidence was high but not cocky. Only 15 minutes from home, while taking a corner on the bike path, I made a maneuver with my upper body that abruptly threw my balance off causing the extra knobby tires that I had specifically chosen for greater stability on trails to skid out on the smooth pink concrete surface. It happened in a flash with no time to react. I yelled out in agony when my left side hit the pavement. I was in complete shock.
Only minutes later, a man named Jordan showed up by my side. He had seen me fall. I asked him to hold my hand. In between sobs,  I told him, "NO--don't call an ambulance!" Then a cop arrived. I refused to let him call for help. The next thing I know the sheriff is there and I hear the sirens from the approaching firetruck.  Someone kept telling me "to take deep breaths." I knew I was hurt. My inner thigh muscles felt ripped off the bone and my pubic bone ached. Even though I remember slamming my head, I still felt crystal clear. Thank-goodness for my bike helmet. When I learned the paramedics could check me out for free and I did not have to get in the ambulance, I agreed to let them come. I tried to explain that I was having a hard time knowing what to do. I was absolutely terrified of going back to the emergency room in an ambulance. No one around me could understand what I was experiencing and I could not stop crying.
The concrete felt like I was laying on a table of ice. I started to shiver uncontrollably.  Two paramedics began checking me out. My neck was okay--that was my biggest worry. Before I tried to sit up, I rolled to my side. That's as far as I got. I could not return to my back or sit up. Before being carted away, I left a message for Matt.
It turns out I have a pelvis fracture of the pelvic ring. I got sent home on crutches with a pain med prescription and advised to see an orthopedic surgeon. Fortunately, I won't need surgery. According to the doctor, the bones will take 6-8 weeks to heal. The rehab is slow and a nuisance. He said, "Expect to be feel better by summer."
I can't say much more about this other than I am still in shock. Matt is also in shock to be in the role of care giver again. I know we will need help. I just don't know what yet.
I am grateful I did not hurt any other parts. I did not loose consciousness. I can use both my arms.
I will be able to swim. And, mostly I feel strength accessible to me because of everything I've been through.

Since it's now been over two months since my two year anniversary, what I learned in my second year of recovery is patience, acceptance and immense joy to be alive.  I have a feeling I am going to learn a lot more in the coming weeks and months.

Two Year Anniversary

Yesterday, I celebrated my two year anniversary with Linda. The exceptionally warm weather made it possible for us to have a picnic breakfast at the Boulder Reservoir-- something we had aspired to do  last year, instead we drank tea sitting in her bed because she had the flu and it was cold outside.

The excitement I felt as soon as I awoke was drastically different compared to one year ago. I started my day off with a swim of 1500 meters--using both arms, swimming breast, free and back!!! Afterwards, I walked around Harper Lake with Karla before heading off to meet Linda.

I know I have much to say about how I am feeling and what I've learned in two years time--I can't yet because it is still forming in me.

What I can say is that gratitude is still with me and I am grateful that it is. It keeps me humbled and honest. 

Full Circle

For the first time since my accident, I swam a continuous 1000 meters this morning. I used both arms, and could actually swim free, back and breast instead of adding in kick sets or drills to make the distance. Other than soreness in my upper right trap, I am fine and feeling very ELATED!!!! My love of water and moving in water continues to amaze me.  It's a place where I can I tap into parts of myself that would never get my attention otherwise. If I hadn't been expected to meet Matt and his sister, Cindy, who is visiting for the week, before they left on an overnight trip to the Sand Dunes, I would have stayed in longer to have played like a dolphin as a way to celebrate my accomplishment.

Yesterday at PT with Sandy, I got another home exercise. I think I am up to 50 exercises by now. (I do about 15-20 per day when I am on a roll). The new one is for balance. She reminded me that it was the same exercise she had given me before my accident. What's starting to happen in physical therapy is that I can't go forward without also dealing with my left and ride side compensatory patterns, mostly due to a leg length discrepancy from a broken femur at age 14. The good news is I have healed enough from the accident for this to be happening.  As one PT put it..."Beth's in the abnormal abnormal category of clients instead of normal abnormal."

My work with Sandy Bertrand began because of back pain in 2008. The lift I wore only in my right shoe stopped working for my body. I had to stop running the pain was so bad.  The first thing she did was stabilize my pelvis by adding lifts to both shoes. Sandy's knowledge of my body is invaluable. Get this.....she can still remember how certain parts used to work pre-accident!  On my end--- I am finally in a place to do the work that will lead to change because I want to really listen to what my body is telling me and I am no longer afraid to feel the emotions that arise when I do listen. I used to go to PT to get put back together so I could trash myself again.  It's a totally different mindset now. I still skip my home PT exercises on the days when I don't have the centeredness or energy needed to be present. Even though I still don't enjoy doing the exercises, I am committed. Hopefully, a time will come when I can find the joy in it since I am a lifer.

Real Recovery

I found it too difficult to post about my recovery over these past several months because it felt painfully personal and too "unformed" to share. Now the time feels right to describe what my internal landscape looks like now--almost two years out from my accident.
The real work of recovery seems to be starting now. Before my focus had to be about healing, becoming pain-free and functional in day to day life, and paying medical bills. Many times on this journey I have arrived at a new place and thought "finally, I can be like I was or, now things are going to get easier". That has shown to be true only at face value. Underneath lies a different reality and its that reality that I seem to be spending more time in. I can't say it's comfortable going deeper within because it's territory I have never traveled before.
Life has a way of pulling at us because that is what life knows to do. Now I get to see that more clearly and realize how hard it is to change ingrained behavior patterns that are set in motion on a neurological level. Change has had to become a daily choice, all the way down to the minute.  I feel compelled to constantly observe if my choice represents what I truly want for myself. 
Today, after an 11 month hiatus from trail riding, I rode my mountain bike on the Marshall Mesa trail--a single track trail providing a fantastic view of the Flatirons, some rolling hills and minimum technical challenges.  My approach was very different this time around. I rode from a place of pure enjoyment to be on the bike again and OUTSIDE! I had no need to ride crazy hard, fearless or take unnecessary risks. Instead, I wanted to get to know how my body felt on the bike and how my bike performed so that we could work more in tandem.  By the end of the ride, I felt completely connected with the machine between my legs. It is so huge for me to make movement more about movement and less about training or avoidance. I still want to trained hard again in the future. However, I can tell that now is not the right time.  It is more important to learn about my relationship to my body, to space and to activity.

Going deeper within means not being afraid of what I feel. What can come up often still is sadness and disappointment. The newest addition is anxiety. I am intentionally creating more unscheduled time for myself and so far, my response to free time has been to feel anxious and overwhelmed, and unclear about what to do or not do with myself. I am learning to make friends with my discomfort. The imagine that comes to mind is of a impenetrable medieval door that has always served as a gatekeeper. No one gets in and no one gets out.  Now this same door has light shining through--indeed there is life on the other side.

Farewell to hardware: inner and outer

At the beginning of the week, the plates and screws in my clavicle and ankle got removed. Two days later, I sold my climbing gear. I had not planned it this way. A friend of Karla's showed interest and I felt ready to let it go, or so I thought.The emotional release that followed was big.Poor Matt. He walks in the door from his run with me sitting on the stairs bawling. My entire rack of cams, nuts, friends, aliens, draws, slings, locking biners were gone.
I can still remember how I excited I felt when I purchased my first "used" rack. It meant I was serious about becoming a lead climber. Unknowingly, it also meant I was on a course of proving myself. Overtime I put a lot of energy into learning how to use my gear, bought new gear and lived the lifestyle of a climber. I took 2 month long road trips every year. I challenged myself to climb harder and took greater risks. It had become a central part of my life and a way I defined myself. As I watched the woman who bought my gear attach each piece to the gear sling then walk out the door, it felt as if a part of me had died even though I knew it was right to sell it.
Several days before my anniversary, I decided to not return to lead climbing. The risks associated with being a lead climber are too great after what I've been through physically and mentally. Whether I will climb again is still up in the air. I am not ready to decide.
Now that the tears have stopped, I am able to feel relief. I am relieved to be moving forward again. Consciously and unconsciously, I have been holding onto an identity that is not mine. Between the set back with my good shoulder, the challenges with unemployment and finances, I am losing my fighting energy. I say that not as a victim, but from a place of willingness to surrender to what is. Somewhere within I understand the importance of making room for other parts of myself to come forth and the limitations of my body are aiding me in the process.

and something started in my soul,

fever or forgotten wings,
and I made my own way,
deciphering
that fire.

Pablo Neruda

Meeting My Edges

I thought I knew all of my edges. It turns out I was wrong. The weeks leading up to my one year anniversary of my accident have been a whirlwind. On the day I rode my new "used" mountain bike on a rocky, slightly technical trail compared to the gravel or dirt trails I had been riding, I thought to myself "This is great! I am really starting to turn the corner!"

A week later, I fell on a hike with a friend. Falling stirred up a plethera of emotions. The next week I cut my finger, got 6 stitches. Going to Urgent Care stirred up even more emotions. Last week I learned I have a frozen right shoulder. I still feel grateful. I am grateful that I did not know about any of this in advance. I might have reached my tipping point. I am grateful on deeper levels as well. My circumstances, both the physical ones and all the headaches I am having with unemployment are teaching me to be a better swimming teacher. Surprisingly, my time at work is helping me the most with the struggle I feel inside towards my body's time line and my own. Pain, suffering, disappointment, disillusionment and frustration are all teaching me about compassion. This Fall session I am working with several adult beginners, all of whom have had a traumatic experience related to water. Fortunately for them, I am better able to understand their limitations because of my own. I did not have this perspective before my accident-not at this deeper level. With every step of progress these students make, I experience an overwhelming sense of joy and inspiration.

Recently, I read a quote from Your Body Speaks Your Mind that I had underlined many years ago. It says" To be healed is to bring ourselves into a whole, to gather our lost voices and forgotten selves, and to embrace those parts of our being that have been hidden and denied. It is a journey of trust to discover our inner strength and it demands our total commitment."
It is this kind of work that's leading me to meet my new edges. In meeting my edges, it helps me to assist others to meet theirs. When I remember this, I feel purpose and inner strength.

A few days ago I met with several rescuers from Rocky Mountain Rescue Group that responded to Karla's call for help. Other than Greg, their faces were brand new to me. All seven of them. A few weren't able to attend the meeting: the pilot, two nurses, a paramedic and one other volunteer. To be able to process for almost two hours my rescue was extremely emotional for me. I got to look into the eyes of those individuals that put their own safety on the line to attend to my urgent medical needs. The ones that coordinated logistics, worried about the winds changing, the helicopter getting off the ground and getting me to a surgeon as quickly as possible. They are people if I had met on the street or a trail, I would want to know. Big hearts, competent and FUN-LOVING!.
One more time I learned that I came very close to dying and it mattered that the nurse from Pridemark- the ambulance service, was a strong climber especially since she was the one that did one of the most important tasks: re-inflate my left lung. The other nurse was too afraid to come up to the site. It also helped that most of the team members from RMRG had been at the same location in recent months for a rescue which allowed setting up the anchors for lowering me to go quickly and smoothly, and the speed at which my rescue occurred was very significant. By filling in the gaps of what happened on 10/31/10, being able to say THANK-YOU and give each rescuer a big hug, the words of Gretel Ehrich express so beautifully what I feel as a result.

"The lessons of impermanence taught me this: loss constitutes an odd kind of fullness; despair empties out into an unquenchable appetite for life."