Perspective

This will be my 5th Christmas season working at the hospital and although I know what to expect, I still find it the most difficult and heartbreaking time of year. Like most workplaces during xmas, our hospital is decorated with festive cheer, there are boxes of chocolates, xmas treats, and radios softly play Boney M and all the xmas favorites as we work away. We try our best to emulate the excited Christmas buzz that you feel in the air when you're out in the community during this special time in year, but it's certainly not the same. As soon as you step off the elevator and onto the ward, it feels especially somber. For some patients in the hospital, this will definitely be the worst Christmas they've ever experienced and perhaps a xmas that will haunt their families for years to come.

As healthcare workers, I think that we all struggle at times to "leave work at work" and not allow the sadness to creep home with us at the end of the day. You have to. Although we've all shed a fear tears, especially during the holidays, we would go crazy if we let every diagnosis, every death affect our mood once we leave the workplace. On the other hand, as difficult as it is, I also think it is valuable to "feel" with our patients and families. It certainly puts things into perspective. For example, I stormed into work on Friday morning upset because Evan had eaten all my Lindt chocolates. The same Lindt chocolates that I was planning on giving out as gifts. His response when I called him out? "You're pretty." Seriously? That's all you got? I angrily relayed the story to my co-workers. Now I had to leave during my lunch hour to buy new chocolates. What an inconvenience! 15 minutes later, I was standing in a patient's room as he and his family received the news that he had suffered a stroke and it was evolving. "So we just have to wait and see if it disables him?" inquired the patient's wife, as she lovingly stroked her husband's hair. I nodded quietly and recalled my squabble with Evan. How silly. How lucky we are. I wanted to get in my car, cover Evan with kisses and tell him to eat as many fricken Lindt chocolates as he wants.

The holiday season at the hospital is also a time for fabulous people to shine. You catch co-workers going the extra mile this time of year to make life just a little more joyous for our patients. Last week I watched 3 nurses wheel a lonely and confused patient to the nurses desk. While they charted away, they tried their best to cheer up their patient, who was visibly upset.  As the poor old man uttered, "I'm such a bother," I saw the Nurse take his hand in hers and reply, "No you're not. We love having you around!" I've also watched my fellow therapists stand outside in the -30 degree weather to organize and determine the safest mode of transferring a patient to and from a vehicle - all so the patient can enjoy a few hours in his house on Christmas day. A lady from housekeeping took a break from sweeping the floor to fetch a glass of water for a thirsty patient - not her job; however, she was more than happy to take a few minutes out of her busy schedule. Our fabulous social worker, Gord, came into work on his day off so that he could accompany us on his guitar while we sang Christmas carols throughout the wards. It's nice to see. It restores your faith in humanity. It makes me proud to be a healthcare worker and I feel blessed to work beside so many kind, compassionate people. Keep up the good work, peops!

Run, Kirstie, Run!

I can walk. I can squat. I can even lunge (boo ya!). But I can't run. Yet. I had never actually tested the whole running theory until today. I definitely do not have clearance from my Physio to run at this point in my rehabilitation. A year ago I questioned whether or not I'd ever be able to run again. Now, given my sweet cartilage and the progress that I am making, I am optimistic that some day I will run. Not like in a marathon or anything, but that has never interested me. I just wanna have running as an option - you know, like if someone is chasing me or whatever...for survival. That's how I realized today that running is not yet a verb in my knee's vocabulary. My survival instincts kicked in. I wasn't being robbed. I wasn't being chased by a rabid dog. I was; however, being attacked by a rather brisk -40 degree celsius windchill in the hospital parking lot. I was heading to my vehicle, frigid wind whipping at my face, when suddenly instinct took over, and without even considering my knee, I began to break into a run. Well, my brain thought that I was running. I wasn't actually "running," I was kinda...well..."rimping" (run/limp). About halfway to my vehicle, I became cognizant of what my body was doing - a left legged long jump with speed - I was even pumping my arms with each "stride." Oh dear.  I stopped suddenly, wondering if anyone in the hospital had witnessed my pathetic attempt to reach my vehicle without freezing to the cement. Embarrassed, I adjusted my scarf and continued the rest of my journey with a super cool saunter.

So... lesson learned. My body forgot how to run. We will have to work on that. How strange to realize that something that was once so automatic is temporarily out of commission. Apparently my vision of suddenly breaking into a perfect stride is not realistic. Damn you, Forrest Gump, for painting an unrealistic view of rehab.

Baby Got Back

I've been pretty candid with you guys regarding the absence of my ass. To my dismay, it disappeared over a year ago when my workout routine was rudely interrupted by my angry knee. With each surgery and recovery, I watched it fade away until I was left with a loooong back that eventually attached to a pair of atrophied thighs. It was upsetting. Some may scoff at this and say, "I wish I could lose some of my ass!" Trust me. You don't. The butt is a beautiful thing, people. And aesthetically necessary. You see, all pants have a special place for a bottom. No bum? Tough luck. Your pants look stupid. I recall shopping for dress pants with Lawyer's hubby, Darren (because he will tell you exactly what he thinks) and he strongly suggested that I sport skirts until something that remotely resembled a rear end appeared on my body. Having no butt made me feel weak, unhealthy, and Justin Bieberish.

Since I've received clearance from physio in early October, I have made it my mission to get my ass back. It even made #7 on my "cool shit I will do once my knee works" list.  I decided that it was time to boost this booty. Tighten the tush. Junk up the trunk. Bring back the badonkadonk.

The bottom line (no pun intended): I've been working my butt off ON.

I wish I had a proper before and after shot, or even some legit measurements. I don't. But being that I am very familiar with my ass (we've known each other intimately for 34 years), I can guarantee you that although it's no Kim Kardashian or J-LO, there is now visual evidence that a legit bum separates my lower back from my thighs. Whoot Whoot!

Obviously, I couldn't have done it without my new cartilage. You rock, cartilage - thank you! In addition, there are a few key players that I'd like to thank:

1) Cafeteria lady at the hospital- Thank you for that extra large serving of cheesy lasagna, cheesy macaroni, and cheesy pizza. I'm certain that all that cheese contributed to booty. I do; however, have terrible acid reflux and will be avoiding you from now on.

2) Dr. Phil - I made it my goal to hold a 30 second hip bridge every single time the camera panned on Robin (Dr. Phil's wife) making a shocked/dismayed/yet attractive facial expression during the 60 minute show. It happens a lot. Trust me.

3) Sir Mix-a-Lot a lot via Evan Lindsay's cell phone - Thank you, Ev, for changing your alarm to the classic tune, "Baby Got Back." Waking up every morning to "Oh my god, Becky, look at that butt..." seriously inspired me on a daily basis.

So Ladies! (yeah) Ladies! (yeah) 
You wanna roll in my Mercedes?
Turn around, stick it out
Even white boys gotta shout
Baby got back.