I was flying high after my first week back to work. Mentally, I felt invincible, and I was sure that my body would just follow along. So I went for a bike ride. A real bike ride. I rode the shit out of that bike (well, let's be honest, I took it around the block). Wind in my hair, flies in my teeth, the taste of freedom on my lips - it was invigorating, to say the least. The last time I had seen the end of my block was during one of my wheelchair walks with Ev. Although the wheelchair walks were lovely (except for that one time when Ev took me down the hill and forgot to buckle me in), and often the only thing that I looked forward to in my day, the bike ride was kicking wheelchair walks ass. Nothing hurt. I was riding my bike like a regular bike-riding person. I felt a sense of pride when a car would drive past me. In my mind they were thinking, "look at that regular person going for a regular bike ride." Once I turned the corner; however, and the wind picked up speed, howling against me, I realized that the bike ride was getting...well, hard, I guess. I limped back to the house at top speeds of 0.5km/hr and immediately collapsed on my couch. Although exhausted, I was still pretty cocky about my epic bike ride and even had the nerve to post it on facebook, "First bike ride. Boo ya!" Boo ya, my ass. Within an hour, I realized that the bike ride was a bad idea.
The next morning, I awoke to one swollen, hot, puffy knee, one angry aching knee, a hip that popped when I moved, and a rib out of place (can a rib actually fall out of place? I don't know. All I know is, the only way I could breathe was to aggressively push on a specific spot on my back). The only position that gave me relief was flat on my back on my hard wood floor. Within minutes, both Dundee, the dog, and Biloxi, the cat were laying top of me, obviously concerned with their owners predicament (or laying claim to my body should I drop dead at that point?)
Now, normally I would have just called in to work "immobile," but I had a video swallow study arranged that day. While I was off work, patients awaiting swallow studies were told to wait until my return or go on Saskatoon's wait list, so I felt obligated to suck it up, get into work, and do this swallow study.
Back on the crutch (how the hell do you hold a crutch when both your knees hurt and your rib is "out"?) I limped into the therapies department. I had been so cocky about how awesome I was doing that my first thought was, "Please don't let me actually see anyone I know today." Of course, I ran into everyone and their dog in my state of disrepair.
"Uh oh, pushing yourself a little too hard?" asked a colleague, "Listen to your body, Kirstie."
"Thanks. Yep. Got it," I wheezed.
Making my way to x-ray with a patients file, a tray of food, and my crutch, I secretly hoped that a sniper was hiding in the halls to finish me off at this point.
Ron, my awesome OT buddy, caught site of me and noticeably flinched in dismay, "You need help?"
"No, I um....Ya. I totally need help, Ron."
So thankfully Ron helped me to x-ray where I was able to get going on this swallow study.
Of course, the Radiologist that I was working with that day was young and hot, as opposed to the typical old angry Radiologists on call. Given that the only way I could breathe was in a shallow panting manner, and the fact that I frequently gasped while passing the barium to my patient, hot, young doctor likely suspected that I was in heat.
Bottom line: I did it.
As I shuffled out of the hospital, I, of course, ran into another colleague that I hadn't seen since my return.
"Oh, you're still on the crutch? Things not going well?" he asked with concern.
"No, it's going well. Just pushed myself a little too hard, " I panted.
"uh oh. Listen to your body!" he replied.
Yup. Got it.
My body's message was not subtle. My body was communicating to me loud and clear: "F*ck You!"
Lesson learned. Mentally, I was ready. Physically - not quite there yet. But you know what, I'm tired of "listening to my body." I think it's time that my body listens to me, damnit! However, I don't really feel like fighting with the body this week. Truce? Body, let me pour you a nice glass of wine and run a bubble bath for you. You're welcome. Love you.
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