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."

Reshaping from the inside out

As the air thins and the temperature drops, a voice within recognizes that October is near. At the end of this month, I'll have eleven months of recovery under my belt. As I say that tears start to form. My throat closes a bit. The words to describe what I am feeling are still difficult to find.
Where I am today is not something I envisioned. I can ride a bike for an hour. I can hike up steep hills. I can perform daily tasks with minimal pain. My body feels whole not broken. My spirit continues to grow. My heart wants nothing more than to be open. I continue to feel touched by grace and know I am being re-shaped from the inside out.

While driving into Boulder for PT this morning, the overcast view of the Divide made me remember the heart-felt conversations I'd had with Jenny, Miriam, Julie, Janet, Maureen, Kristen, Stephanie, Rebecca, Kathy, Catherine, Michelle and Karla during the four months of being transported to physical therapy by one of them. I have not forgotten what it felt like to be so encouraged and loved. Funny, how a shift in the barometric pressure can evoke so much emotion.

I know what I've yearned for, but not once have I had a clear picture in my mind of where I would be at this stage. Where I will be in the future, I am not sure. The only thing I am sure about is that my body will be different this time next year. Will it be stronger? I sure hope so.

A few months ago, in an attempt to feel more in charge, and like a serious athlete again, I outlined my swimming goals. It went something like this: March 2012, I will be swimming 3x week 1000 yards, building up to 4000 yards. In June, I will add intervals. By September, I will return to swimming with Masters. Since that time, what's unfolded is the range of motion in my left shoulder returned as my right shoulder entered a phase of imbalance. I'm told its not a frozen shoulder. It hurts like one. It makes pulling my hair up difficult again. I can't reach behind my back very well. I can't sleep on my right side anymore.
I didn't expect this. Like I didn't expect a frozen shoulder. I'm starting to question whether to have milestones to reach. It seems premature and not where my attention should go. I've always relied upon concrete goals and plans. The lesson seems to be about my learning to be more fluid. It's about discovering the new Beth, not holding onto to the old version. It's about taking each day as it comes. It's about seeing the gifts. And, keeping the faith that I will swim again.

This week was suppose to be the start of my Fall teaching session. The week before, I learned I did not re-qualify for unemployment benefits. Panic and fear arose in a way I've not experienced sense the end of last year. The pool where I have taught for 22 years is closed indefinitely. Gallons of water are leaking out daily. First, they have to find the leak. Then repair it. Sounds simple, right? Not necessarily. I've been shut down before-two months was the longest. I don't like the position I am. I've worked hard to not be here. And, so it is. I am certain there is a lesson in this as well.
I've reapplied to unemployment. We are in the process of refinancing our home and I am selling my camper and sea kayak. That's all I know to do at this stage. My biggest fear is not being able to afford PT and massage. No big deal to cut back the fat elsewhere. In the meantime, I am using my extra time to get SUPER organized. I am doing all the admin projects I've always avoided.
Recently, I submitted a new piece to my the monthly writing group. I am writing about my accident. It's the first time no one in the group had anything negative to say. Writing about my fall and recovery is helping me sort through my experiences more deeply. Maybe, all the extra time is more about me writing my book than teaching and earning money.

Matt completed the tiling. The hints of orange and moss green compliment and complete the deck. The next phase is building benches. Now thanks to my Aunt, who is more like an older sister, we have a beautiful, antique wooden Mexican chest in our living room. It means a lot to me to have a part of her in our home.

Clarity visits ten months out.....

Yesterday as I walked along the bike path behind our house that circumvents a prairie colony and coyote den before passing by the local fishing pond; I remembered how I felt ten months ago when I was building up to an hour walk. Both legs feel incredibly strong now in comparison. Walking continues to be one of my favorite activities. Because I walk frequently, I've even tapped back into childhood memories of being mesmerized by fire flies, corn fields, the smell of freshly cut hay and curing tobacco leaves. My whole life has been in dedication to my insatiable desire to move.

Recently, while on retreat I came in contact with an even greater need of mine and that is to make stillness my highest priority. The pull to go down and in with my breathe, with my energy has gained my attention. This calling to settle within myself no longer incites anxiety instead I feel ready. Even though my left side and right side feel more symmetrical, I can still sense imbalances and it's no longer just on the left side. As its been since the beginning of my recovery, my physical body's role is to constantly be a reminder of what my spiritual being requires. I continue to learn that healing from trauma is not a straight line in one direction. The further out I get from my accident, the more aware I become of the number of levels that are still in need of restoration.

Fortunately, I am experiencing less depression and frustration over not being able to swim continuous laps or run for hours on steep rocky trails. I can say this now because I feel a deeper sense of solidity forming within. The restrictions on work, my social life and exercise are still in place. And, I am okay with all of it. It feels right. The big news is that I am down to one PT visit per week!!!!! My body stopped responding favorably to all the various inputs. I've also taken a sabbatical from PT exercises until September.

For fun I've been going camping. The trip with Matt was the first one. We had lousy weather, great views, good fishing and amazing fires. The trip that followed was with a group of women spending 24/7 in nature.
There was rain and heat. Spectacular beauty. Rattlesnakes mating. Hours and hours of silence. Powerful connection. Peace of mind.

Since I've been back home, my teaching has taken on a new level of depth and insight. I seem to be drawing in adult swimmers with significant trauma to overcome. I've never had so many beginners at the same time. I can tell that this work is truly my speciality. The other bonus is that as each swimmer begins to recognize for the first time that learning to swim is possible; I become a immediate recipient of their joy and optimism. Their success makes my slow recovery as an athlete palatable. I can't say why that is....I only know that it's helping.

On the home front, Matt completed the deck. It took twice as long as he anticipated. He says,"it was much harder than the kitchen remodel!" Since he removed the hand railings, I now get a expansive view of our garden and the prairie colony when I sit outside to eat breakfast. His next project is to tile the concrete slabs by the deck.

We celebrated our 5th year of being together last week. This year means the most to me. It's the one that stripped away anything false about each other and left us raw and exposed. Happily, I can say we are better as individuals and stronger as a couple.

July-Eight months out and smiling......

If you are wondering why it's been such a long time since I've posted, here is why.
I've needed time to reflect and assimilate my experiences in recovery to make sure that the valuable aspects stick to my being rather than go to my head (ego). I am ready now to try posting once a month to keep everyone up to date. I have appreciated all of the email inquiries and phone calls on how I am doing.

Back in March, I wrote about what I was not able to do and my disappointment over having a frozen shoulder. Since that time, I have learned that healing from trauma occurs in stages from gross to subtle. At times there have been weeks of no change, then what seems like out of the blue, a significant change occurs. I start to move in a way that feels very familiar. It's a sense of reuniting more with my body. My body's relentless search for homeostasis leaves me in awe. I had no idea that my body could be so strong and so determined. I continue to feel assisted by forces greater than myself. I don't have the words to give a better description other than to call it grace.

What I look now is normal. At eight months out, I have a right leg that looks more like the left one. Muscle tone and strength are starting to return. The torn ACL has yet to be repaired. My left shoulder rests on the ground better than my right one and my ribs don't hurt if I lay on the floor. I can sit without props for 10 minutes. I can scratch my back with my left hand and shave my left armpit. I can hold a plank position for 30 seconds. I can ride my bike outside for 15 minutes. I can hike a rocky trail without bracing. I can swim a few lengths of freestyle without any pain in my left shoulder and bilateral breathe. It's amazing to me that I can do all of these things now.

I continue to go to physical therapy and get deep tissue massage. Dry needling on a weekly basis seems to be helping the most. The rigidity in my neck and chest along with some restrictions still in my shoulders are my primary focus. I have great hopes for loosening up those parts of me now that I have incorporated play into the majority of my swim practice, I've returned to some childhood favorites like blowing bubbles on the bottom of the pool, dolphin dives, somersaults, handstands and underwater swimming. This is definitively a prescription for LAUGHTER!

On other fronts, I have enjoyed returning to teaching. I am amazed at how loyal my clients are and that my business is still solid. My love for teaching feels stronger than before as does my desire to be the best that I can be. New ideas continue to pop up on how to teach more effectively.
At home, the sunflowers are already taller than us and our garden is yielding an abundance of salad greens and basil. Matt is pouring time and sweat into refurbishing the deck. He removed the railing which gives up a much larger view of the open space that abuts our backyard. Between the flowers, birds, rabbits, squirrels, bees, and butterflies I feel as if we have our very own secret garden.
Next week, Matt and I are going car camping near Independence Pass. It's a new area for both of us. We hope to find cooler temperatures and quiet. I can still remember looking out the window at St. Anthony's hospital longing to be out in nature. There is something about sleeping under the stars that leaves me feeling even more in love with life than I already feel.
Once again, I want to thank everyone for caring so much about my well being. My lack of contact is not a reflection of my caring. It's strictly about what I have to do right now for myself. Recovery is very self absorbed. In time, I will be able to reach out more. Until then, please know that I appreciate the invites, emails and phone calls.

Doctor Visit

It's hard to let myself stay down too long when I reflect on what's happening in Japan. I think the one thing I have in common with that situation is dealing with the unknown. I learned yesterday that I have a frozen shoulder. Mine is not typical. I have range of motion for lifting my arm above my head and to the side, but not for tying up my hair, pulling off a T-shirt or scratching an itch in the middle of my back.
This being said, swimming is no longer something I can do. There is concern by both physical therapists (the other therapist is Sandy Bertrand, who travels to Colorado from Virginia once a month until she moves back this summer) that the activity could be setting me back. This news was not too hard to hear. I love swimming too much to be impatient.
It was the news yesterday that had more of an impact. For what I thought would be my final "post-opt" visit, I saw the only doctor I really like out of the five doctors that have been involved. Dr. Rowland is a short man, fit and has blue eyes that sparkle. I like him because he listens and understands what is important to me. Matt told me he's the only one that made an impression on him.
Dr. Rowland was the surgeon that put plates in my distal fibula and clavicle. His partner put my humerus back together. It turns out the other bones have healed, but the humerus has not. Fortunately, the screws are tight in the plate, so there is no concern that something is wrong. What this means is I cannot ride a bike outside yet. We also discussed removing the hardware and what that will entail. The hardware in my left arm will stay in. My heart sank when I started to think about what is ahead of me and still not being able to take off in motion into unknown territory with the wind in my face and adventure at my fingertips. I have not been able to find the silver lining yet with all this. I know I will in time.
I sat in my yard today for a few hours to enjoy the warm weather, fresh air, the sunshine and the hints of Spring. I made a donation to the American Red Cross for its operation in Japan. And, now I am writing in my blog. Writing can help me get my head and heart back on track. The one gem that keeps coming to me from various people is the value in right living, a sitting practice and time. Those seem to be key ingredients for healing and should not be underestimated-that's what I am telling myself today.

Four Months Out-Gratitude Abounds!

Between running, especially when I competed as an ultra runner, mountain biking and climbing I have spent countless hours on trails in and around Boulder. A hilly, rocky and narrow trail with switchbacks is my favorite kind. I would seek it out and only train on the flats for speed work or recovery.
This week my physical therapist, Laura Shove at North Boulder PT released me to hike a 'soft' trail with an incline. My right knee has not been taped since before I came down with the flu-over two weeks ago. The swelling is down and I am slowly building back muscle tone. My balance is much improved and I am not as protective or fearful of falling.
For my inaugural hike, I picked a trail head outside of Superior. The trail was like a fire road, not steep and provided an expansive view of open space and the foothills. Within fifteen minutes of starting my walk, I was bawling. I was overcome with joy and gratitude for being able to walk uphill. This unexpected response showed me an area of my life that I had taken for granted before my accident. Between the chill in the air, my own shadow and a lone coyote as my companions, I tapped into a place of utter delight. I was back in my element-truly back! In that moment, I discovered that I don't have to be in Utah, Wyoming or any place extremely remote to find bliss. If my heart is open, nature does the rest. I feel like the richest person on the planet after that experience.

Being four months into my recovery, I continue to be showered with gifts, some material and others are insights about who I am becoming. Repeatedly, I am reminded about my good fortune. This week, I received my first full on soft tissue massage that lasted over two hours. For the first time, I felt trauma and fear leave my back side. Those pesky ribs that poke against my left scapula were able to settle into a more neutral position. I am in awe of the healing energy that exists within the human body and spirit.

On the swimming front, I paid my first visit to my health club: Flatirons Athletic Club. The warm weather and a desire to see my buddies, Jane Scott (coach and friend) led to a short swim with the Masters group at the 12:30 workout. Jane made sure I had my own lane and let me do my own thing instead of the workout. I would not have been able to make any of the intervals even if I had been in the slowest lane. I did not mind being so slow. I wanted to swim outside in the fresh air. Fortunately, several of my lane mates attended the workout. I felt like a hero coming back from war (as in World War II veterans) by the welcome I received. I love being part of a community-that's something else I took for granted.
My stroke is much improved since the first time I attempted to swim. I still have A LOT of restriction with my left shoulder. I am cutting back my swim days to two instead of three times a week to make sure I am not tightening muscles that should be lengthened at this stage. Regardless, I feel incredibly content to just be in a pool right now.

This week I realized that my experience has fundamentally altered my view of what it means to reach out to strangers, acquaintances, friends and family. I have joined the ranks of being someone who had a life altering event and now know that small actions of love really do make a difference. Love is a powerful force. Now that I have graduated to driving myself to physical therapy, I appreciate even more than I already did all those people that drove me for 3 months. There were some individuals that drove me consistently the entire time. Others only once. Several were parents of my students, some were students and others were friends. Gifts were brought. Smiles, encouragement and concern was standard fare. I tried to show my appreciation each time. I know the chances of repaying them in the same way are slim and I know that what I really need to do is take in all that love. In time, I will be strong enough to give back if not to them than someone else. I am so blessed. I can't say that enough.

The Light has returned

It's official as of today-I am over the flu. I only have the remnants of a cough to shed before I can declare I am completely healthy again. Matt, on the other hand, is very sick. He's on day two of bed rest which is unheard of for him. This time last week he was taking care of me. Now, it's my turn.
I can finally admit that the rest did me a world of good. I feel more settled in myself, clearer and aware that pacing is crucial for keeping myself on the right track for healing. As a precautionary measure because of my bleb (air bubble), I had a chest x ray taken earlier in the week and was able to get a good view of my ribs. My posterior ribs 3-7 have not calloused fully yet. That's what I feel when I lay on my back on the floor, lean against a hard surface or sit upright for too long. I had hoped to get my first full on body massage last week as a way to work on coaxing the muscles around those ribs to release, making room for them to lay flat again but illness prevented that from happening.
This morning, I ate my breakfast on the floor in my meditation room for the first time since October. I surrounded my back side with pillows and placed another one under my right knee. The great news is I experienced no pain! I adopted this practice in the early 90's after having reoccurring dreams of sitting cross legged on the floor eating out of a ceramic bowl. This feels like a major milestone to be out of the recliner and back on the floor. I also took down all the beautiful heart felt cards that were on the walls of our bedroom. It was time. I no longer want to feel like a patient.
Along those same lines, I planned my work schedule for April and May. Finally, I've become ready to move in that direction. My first week back I will teach only 3 hours. By the 6th week, I will be up to 9.5 hours. The slow build feels appropriate even though I know I won't be able to see all of the clients that are ready to start up again.
Despite fear lurking around that I need to start making money, I still am able to remain very clear that I must return to my former life in a gradual way to ensure I am ready and that the changes I am making internally are on solid footing. Real change is slow and takes an immense amount of commitment and focus.
Yesterday, I had a chance to speak with Nathan Lenssen, a sophomore at Claremont College in California. His conference championship starts today and like he's done in the past; he wanted to run by me his plan. I feel incredibly honored that he still reaches out to me. We've been working together since he was 10 years old. He told me something I had passed on to him. He said, "you need to take rest days (from PT)." And, he's right. I loved hearing that from him.
On Friday, a friend stopped by to share her experience over having a traumatic head injury from a rock hitting her on the head while climbing. Her accident was 12 years ago. The empathy, compassion and concern for my well being was deeply moving. The gem she left me with was to remember that my only obligation is to be myself. Being myself now means expressing a part of who I was before while learning to express the other parts of myself that have not been nourished or encouraged until now. Stay tuned.....it's a long process.

Sick at home

It's day two of resting in bed with a fever, running nose, and dry cough that I dread every time it happens. Sneezing and coughing yanks on my ribs and muscles in my back. I can't seem to find a place of comfort in this sickness. My whole body aches. I can't sleep. I read off and on. And, when I feel really bad I moan and cry like a baby to comfort myself. I am definitely struggling with being sick.
A week ago Sunday the signs were present. I was too tired to post on Sunday evening. By Monday, I felt myself entering the zone of wearing myself down. Maybe, it was my grieving that set me up. I expended a lot of energy crying. Fortunately, I re-watched Touching the Void and that gave me a tool. As Joe Simpson crawled his way across the moraine, he employed a part of his brain that took charge and would only allow him to focus on the task at hand. This is the climber who broke his leg on the descent of an alpine climb in a remote part of Peru and his partner cut the rope to save his own life. When that happened, Joe fell into a deep crevasse. Miraculously, he climbed out of the crevasse, across a glacier field before he came to the moraine. His tale of survival inspired me and helped to pull me out of my slump.

Around the same time, I become comfortable with Matt being away and began to find a new rhythm in my routine. Another thing I did was to reach out to a friend and fellow ultra runner, who broke 10 ribs, her pelvis, pubic bone and sacrum in a car accident. At the time, she was 3 months pregnant. Thirteen years later, she continues to run and compete at a very high level and her daughter is healthy. Her story inspired me to get off all my pain medication and to treat my recovery as my job. The new approach has left me feeling empowered.

All in all, this process continues to be so humbly. I feel left raw over and over by having to look so closely at myself if I am to learn as much as I can from what happened. Once again, I am reminded of my gratitude to be alive. Remember the book on gratitude that Linda was working on when I was in the hospital? She introduced the book by writing about my accident and asked me to follow that up by writing about the gratitude I tapped into so deeply. The book is going out to the test market first, so who knows where that will lead.
On that note, I am grateful to be sick at home not in the hospital and appreciate the warmth and light from the sun instead of the bitter cold and snow of the previous weeks. Also, I am grateful to all the people that continue to help me.

Three months out from 10/31

Off exploring in canyon country

This photo crystallizes what my spirit and body have been craving all week: running long distances, breathing hard, sweating and exploring unknown terrain. The warm weather of the week reminded me of what I used to be able to do. Don't get me wrong-walking and swimming continue to give me peace of mind; I just now seem to be missing adventure and being out in the wild.
Even though I know that within is unknown territory to explore; I seem to gravitate more towards the other because going in is still uncomfortable. Tomorrow, in the nick of time, I will get a dose of inner stillness as I assist from the sidelines (while sitting in my bean bag chair) my friend Janet as she teaches a class on starting a sitting practice. We've taught this class together before-I tell her I've signed up for life as her co-teacher because I want to have an inner life. I learn something well when I know I will be teaching it. It seems fitting that the 3 month mark falls on the same day as the sitting class.
For my own sanity, it's time to begin to quantify where I am at on the physical front to keep my process in perspective.
I can wash my face and shampoo my hair with both hands. I still struggle with putting my hair in a pony tail on top of my head.
I have been able to sleep 3 nights in a row without the cervical collar.
I only take aleve or vicadin a few times a week. I continue to test the limits of how long I can go without medication because I am better at managing my pain.
I can sleep thru the night more consistently and without night sweats or hot flashes!
I am more comfortable driving, but not sharp or responsive so I limit myself to once a week when I drive to Boulder.
I went grocery shopping on my own for the first time today.
I expanded my wardrobe from only button down shirts to pull overs.
I completed by myself 4th quarter payroll and end of the year corporate tax preparation. It took ALL day. The good news is my brain worked well.
I can swim 3 days a week and walk 4 days a week.
I cried a fair amount this week and it did not hurt my ribs.

On the outside, no one would ever know that I had broken any bones. On the inside, my bones, muscles, tissues and cells are still healing not to mention my spirit. I am struggling to find a way to relate to where I currently am in my recovery. I feel a lot of sadness. I guess you could say I am grieving my former self.
In a few days, Matt heads out to Illinois to celebrate his father's 75th birthday. He's the surprise element of the celebration. Already I feel uneasy over having him gone. It will be interesting to see what it feels like to be in our home without him. I've never experienced that since I was the one away on road trips. Life constantly hands out exactly what one needs to grow.

In closing, the high point of the week has been the continued support from clients and friends. I now have 10 hours of a personal chef's time to help me with food preparation. How awesome is that? I can't believe people still want to help me. It blows me away. I love the letters and emails of encouragement. One person said she had a dream about me. It's not the first one either. She said she saw me strong, graceful, smiling, content and at peace. I am glad others can shine the light when I can't seem to muster it myself.

Finding Balance

Finding balance between my spiritual life, love of training, eating well, spending time with friends, my relationship with Matt, our home and work (now physical therapy) has been a constant struggle my entire life.
As I continue to get stronger in my rehab that underlying issue has been brought back to life. A positive sign for sure that I am healing. And, there are still consequences to being out of balance. The lesson once again is when I forget to step back and assess the whole; the "over doing it" part of me completely takes over.
Point in case: last week I attended physical therapy five days in a row. Therapy has been permanently upped to 4x week to make sure all the body parts that need assistance get worked. In addition, I swam three times with the longest one being a 1000 meters of alternating 200 yards kick with 200 yards swim. I even swam a straight 100 freestyle with flip turns. Yippee!!!!!! I can tell my swimming self has returned. Muscle memory is amazing-that's my friend these days.
Over the past two weeks, I've met with 4 orthopedic surgeons about my acl tear and patella femural arthritis. The Boulder doctor recommended I hold off on surgery for 3 months to give my body more time to heal. What great advise! How did he know that's exactly what I need to do?,
Other highlights include surprising myself by being able to comfortable mediate with a group of friends for 40 minutes while sitting on a comfy couch with big pillows, of course! Afterwards, Matt and I celebrated with Linda (amazing blogger Linda) and her partner, Jack my being in recovery. The evening began with perfectly chilled champagne followed by homemade appetizers, pasta, salad and tiramisu. I feel so fortunate to be so loved.
The following day, two very dear friends from Kentucky, my home state stopped by for a visit before heading to Breckenridge to ski, sled and snowmobile. I topped off that evening by driving myself for the first time in the dark to study group. Needless to say, by the time Sunday morning rolled around I was spent. Even still, it was not until after walking to the recreation center, riding the recumbent bike for 35 minutes then walking home that I knew I had over done it.

Clearly, trauma takes its toll on a deep, deep level and finding balance is still a challenge for me. I am trying not to be hard on myself, yet at the same time I need to learn the lesson. I've spent today taking it easy. After PT, I watched a documentary on stress hormones with Lasey, our 20 lb tabby cat that follows me everywhere now. I also opted to nap for several hours instead of working on 4th quarter payroll discrepancies.

I suspect tomorrow will be more of the same until I climb back out of this hole.

Week Eleven-Talking with my climbing parnter about what happened

After waiting many weeks to talk with Karla about what happened the day I fell in Boulder canyon, we finally had that conversation last night. As soon as I saw her, immediately I sensed a softness in her chest-something that's been missing. I felt tremendous relief. She has had to sort through her own trauma response to my accident and that has not been easy for her.
Karla has been my climbing partner since we climbed together for the first time in City of Rocks, Idaho back in 2005. When I met her she had recently left her secure, well paying corporate job and was heading off to South Africa for 6 months. Right away we were drawn to each other and recognized our shared love for adventure, travel and climbing. I admired her courage to leave her "known" life for a year to explore the "unknown".
Climbing with her over the years has played a significant role in my being able to reach more of my potential as a lead climber. My strength has always been my mental ability to be intensely focused, stay on task and overcome fear as a leader and her strength has been route finding, rope management, setting up rappels and descending. Our varied experiences of sport and traditional climbing on road trips and locally created a strong bond and confidence in each other as climbers.

On the day of my accident, I completely forgot myself. She saw the disconnect and addressed it, but I did not listen. Twice, she offered to retrieve the rope knowing I was wearing the wrong kind of shoes for scrambling, in addition, to suggesting I change back into my technical climbing shoes. Earlier in the day, I had lead successfully 5 new climbs after not climbing for 6 weeks. Even though it was a warm, sunny day, we agreed to quit early while we were still ahead of the game. During the descent I slipped on the first rappel and hit my head. This was something that had never happened to me before. On the second rappel, I wore my helmet. In retrospect, we both recognized the foreshadowing of my slipping. Her concern over how disconnected I was only increased when I insisted on retrieving my rope because I got it stuck.
The mistakes I made were attempting to retrieve the rope in the state I was in and not assessing the situation, making a plan or consulting with my partner. It was as if some kind of compulsion within took over and in the situation I did what I do well. I just pushed through thinking I could get the job done.
Early in my life that mind set had a place and served me quite well. Unfortunately, I adopted it as a way of being. My accident has revealed to me how much that way of being actually has hurt me and alienated me from myself. I realize now that it's essential to check in with myself first before taking any kind of action.

As for how I fell, it was not backwards like I thought. Nor did I bounce off rocks like a bowling ball. Actually, I fell through the air, like superman chest first with my arms outstretched before hitting a ledge with the left side slamming into a protruding rock. This explains why I have a large air pocket in the lower lobe of my left lung. I saw the ground coming and gasped! I have no recollection of any of this other than reaching for a hold with my right hand and slipping.
What has been a constant theme through out my experience in the hospital and since I've been home is what's gone right and that turns out to be the case with my rescue. Karla was able to reach 911 while sitting beside me. Getting a cell phone signal in the canyon is unheard of not to mention that Boulder is one of only two other cities in the nation that can handle two rescue calls at the same time which was the case the day of my rescue. I also learned that two not one needle injections occurred in an effort to re-inflate my lung. The thought of that not going well gives me the shivers. Karla also shared with me a comment from a rescuer from Rocky Mountain Rescue. This person said "most of our rescues are not about saving lives, but in this case we did save a life" I am eternally grateful to Karla for keeping her cool and responding as quickly as she did on my behalf. Clearly, she played an important role in my rescue and my being alive.

When we began our evening we entered into our conversation with trepidation, cried during it and hugged at the end. After toasting with fine French champagne, we both felt a thousand pounds lighter and knew we had overcome a big hurdle. We left the door open for further discussion. I know I got the information I needed and recognize that it is still up in the air as to whether we will ever climb together again. Regardless, my journey with Karla is not over; it just may be an different kind of landscape-perhaps in the realm of the intangible. We both are spiritual seekers and seem to be recognizing at the same time the value of going inward.

As I reflect further on what I learned from Karla, I am still struck by how incredibly fortunate I am to be alive. Since my life was spared what weighs on me the most is WHAT AM I HERE TO DO? Am I strong enough as a person to be that?

A dear old friend sent me this poem on my birthday. It's one of my favorites.

The History of a Tough Motherfucker

he came to the door one night wet thin beaten and
terrorized
a white cross-eyed tailles cat
I took him in and fed him and he stayed
grew to trust me until a friend drove up the driveway
and ran him over
I took what was left to a vet who said, "not much
chance. . . give him these pills.. his backbone
is crushed, but it was crushed before and somehow
mended, if he lives he'll never walk, look at
these x-rays, he's been shot, look here, the pellets
are still there. . .also, he once had a tail, somebody
cut it off. . ."

I took the cat back, it was a hot summer, one of the
hottest in decades, I put him on the bathroom
floor, gave him water and pills, he wouldn't eat, he
wouldn't touch the water, I dipped my finger into it
and wet his mouth and I talked to him, I didn't go any-
where, I put in a lot of bathroom time and talked to
him and gently touched him and he looked back at
me with those pale blue crossed eyes and as the days went
by he made his first move
dragging himself forward by his front legs
(the rear ones wouldn't work)
he made it to the litter box
crawled over and in
it was like the trumpet of possible victory
blowing in that bathroom and into the city, I
related to that cat--I'd had it bad, not that
bad but bad enough. . .

one morning he got up, stood up, fell back down and
just looked at me.

"you can make it," I said to him.

he kept trying, getting up and falling down, finally
he walked a few steps, like he was a drunk, the
rear legs just didn't want to do it and he fell again, rested, then got up.

you know the rest: now he is better than ever, cross-eyed,
almost toothless, but the grace is back, and that look in
his eyes never left. . .

and now sometimes I'm interviewed, they want to hear about
life and literature and I get drunk and hold up my cross-eyed,
shot, runover de-tailed cat and I say, "look, look at this!"

but they don't understand, they say something like, "you
say you've been influenced by Celine?"

"no," I hold the cat up, "by what happens, by
things like this, by this, by this!"

I shake the cat, hold him up in
the smoky and drunken light, he's relaxed he knows. . .

it's then that the interviews end
although I am proud sometimes when I see the pictures
later and there I am and there is the cat and we are photo-
graphed together.

he too knows it's bullshit but somehow it all helps.

by: Charles Bukowski

Week Ten-Highs and Lows

The highlight of the week was Doctor Wong releasing me from my cervical collar. I was so excited to be free of it that I went 24 hours without it. I'd been in a hard collar since the day I fell. I even wore a water proof one in the shower. Needless to say, my first day without the collar left me incredibly sore. It turns out I still need to wear the collar a few hours during the day and when I sleep.

I know from my work that the head plays an important part in body alignment. The weight of it alone can bring the hips to the surface to create a balanced body position in water. What I did not know was how many muscles assist in holding up the head. All week I have been very tired. Even though I fractured the transverse process of C-6, the strengthening exercises I've started with are for C-1 and C-2. 50% of neck mobility comes from there. To do these exercises properly requires that I watch myself in the mirror. My PT cautioned me to not overdo otherwise I could end up with headaches and other issues.

I thought that once I got the collar off; I would be able to kinda of swim. I knew my left arm would not be able to reach forward or even clear the water. When I went to the Louisville Recreation center, I discovered that many body parts are not in working order and all I can do right now is swim like a young child that only knows how to bob up and down. Single arm freestyle and backstroke failed. Breast stroke pull only while standing to breathe passed. Drills were too challenging. My eight minute swim workout was a humble start. I was devastated to be so far removed from a sport I love dearly. I had no idea that my starting point would be this. I've always turned to the pool for support during hard times. When my parents got divorced that's where I went every day not to train but to heal. If I feel disconnected from my spirit that is where I go. If I've forgotten how to be playful, I do handstands and somersaults in the pool. The lesson seems to be about finding new ways of coping and a new relationship to water.
Once the sadness and disappointment passed, I remembered other times when I had a daunting goal in front of me. The two times that came to mind were running 40 miles for the first time, knowing I would be doing so on a weekly basis for years and training for my first Ironman triathlon. The difference now is I am going down this path alone. There is no coach or teammate to encourage me. I have to figure out how to make my body swim again. I know I can do this. It's just incredibly humbling. I suspect this experience will make me a better swimming instructor and that's something worth working hard for.
The final note on the kitchen is it's functional and BEAUTIFUL. I am amazed by what Matt accomplished in two weeks. He only has a few final touches before his project is complete: under cabinet lighting, lighting above the sink, tile behind the stove and knobs for the cabinets. The outcome is a space that speaks of warmth, color, natural lighting, natural materials and love. I am planning to spend a lot of time cooking in an effort to eat well and keep our grocery bills down. It already is an immense pleasure to have such a beautiful environment to work in. Fortunately, the remodel only brought us closer together rather than create a strain on our relationship.
When I step back and remember how it was to be in the hospital, I've truly come a long way and so has our home!

Week Nine-Finding Energy to Give

There is nothing like taking care of someone else to distract oneself from worry and pain.
I've had the pleasure all week of helping Matt in small ways as he put in long hours laying tile for the counters and floor. Tiling took a toll on his hands and knees. Being able to wrap his cracked and bleeding thumbs in band aids, prepare his lunches, cook our dinners on the hot plate and wash our dishes in the bathroom sink gave me great joy. Finally, I had the energy to care for him again. I knew when I could give him a neck and back rub that my hands and left arm are getting stronger. It is comforting to know my ability to function on a basic level is returning.

As of late, I've spent many hours contemplating the notion of service. I continue to ask myself, "Who am I here to serve?" In reading mini-autobiographies about the lives of Martin Luther King, Mahatma Gandhi, Mother Teresa and Desmond Tutu, I came across several quotes that resonant with my current need to know who I am and what I am here to really do with my life.

"Power is the ability to achieve purpose. It is the strength required to bring about social, political and economic change. Justice at its best is power correcting everything that stands against love."-Martin Luther King

"Joy is love- a joyful heart is the normal result of a heart burning with love, for she gives most who gives with joy." -Mother Teresa

"The more efficient a force is, the more silent and the more subtle it is. Love is the subtlest force in the world. The law of love governs the world. Life persists in the face of death. The universe continues in spite of destruction going on. Truth triumphs over untruth. Love conquers hate."-Mahatma Gandhi

"Many people ask me what I have learned from all of the experiences in my life, and I say unhesitatingly: People are wonderful. It is true. People really are wonderful." -Desmond Tutu

In addition, I picked this Sufi quote as my theme and focus for the 2011-

"To be a Sufi, is to give up all worries and there is no worse worry than yourself. When you are occupied with self you are separated from God. The way to God is but one step: the step out of yourself." -Abu Sa'id ibn Abi-l-Khayn