Skip to main content

Open-ended closure

Please forgive me for moaning and groaning...yet again.

As many of you know, I have recently experienced a few physical health issues over the past couple of years that have really set me back.  Between baffling patellofemoral pain syndrome and severe diastasis recti, I feel that I have had my share of ailments that, two short years ago, I had never even heard of.

Last month marked the latest chapter in my PFPS saga:  I finally broke down and went to an orthopedist.  After over a year of bilateral knee pain, I'd had enough:
  • I had been to my family physician (who also happens to specialize in sports medicine), an osteopathic specialist, two physical therapists, and consulted with an athletic trainer (whose services I could not afford out-of-pocket - thousands of dollars, just when I learned that I was knocked up).
  • I religiously performed multiple sets and reps of every exercise they recommended:  inner thigh, outer thigh, quads, hips, glutes...only to be informed that I "already had the strength."
  • I held every. single. stretch. for at least 60 seconds (which, surprisingly, is a long time to hold a stretch)...only to be informed that I "already had the flexibility."
  • I practiced "RICE" techniques:  rest, ice, compression, elevation.  I wore a variety of braces on both knees.
  • I quit running altogether and pursued other, more low-impact forms of exercise (both cardio and strength training).
  • During my training (perhaps when I developed this injury?), I made sure not to run every day.  I cross trained.  I strength trained.  I stretched well after every run.  I warmed up.  I cooled down.  
As you can see, I have diligently done everything the way I was supposed to.  This is perhaps the most frustrating aspect of my injury.

During physical therapy for diastasis recti, my PT introduced me to taping.  (I have even taped my abdomen!)  Since April, I have been applying KT tape (kinesio tape) to my knees and leaving it on for up to three days (72 hours).  Oddly enough, this has provided quite a bit of relief, orthopedically speaking.  Unfortunately, the relief only lasts as long as the tape.  It is always bittersweet when I remove it:  it lets my itchy knees breathe (and allows me to shave my still-hormonal-yeti-legs!), but I know that it will soon be followed with a resurgence of the crunching and pain that disrupts my daily activities.  It is literally putting a band-aid on a more serious injury.

For this very reason, and from the prompting of my PT, I felt it was time to get some imaging of the inside of my knees.  My doctor reluctantly referred me to an orthopedist for x-rays.  So, to the orthopedist I went...

After x-raying my knees, they found virtually nothing.  One patella seemed to be slightly off (the one that bothers me less, strangely), but things looked normal otherwise.  SOOOO, the orthopedist ordered an MRI ($$$$$) to investigate some of the soft tissues surrounding the knees.  Again, pretty doggone ship shape.

I don't know if I have ever been more upset by good news.

On the one hand, I am delighted that my knees look fine, and that I can put an end to all of these appointments.  (Coordinating schedules with my babysitter -mom- can be tricky!)  On the other hand, I had hoped we'd find something obvious, an answer to help me understand why I have been experiencing so much pain for nearly two years.  I felt conflicted.

I now have two options:
  1. Arthroscopic knee surgery - basically looking inside my knees.  It is very possible that we would find nothing, but end up leaving behind scar tissue and making the injury worse.
  2. Live with it.
For the present, I have chosen Option #2.

I know I have not made the past couple of years very easy on my family and close friends, wanting to talk about my injuries all the time.  Perhaps that is why I whine about it so much here, on the blog.  (This way, at least, I cannot actually see anyone starting to tune me out, and I feel like I can get it off my chest somewhere...without feeling like I'm talking to a wall.)  As a dancer-turned-runner, I have always been very active and in tune with my body.  By not being able to run, or even be fully active, I feel like I am mourning the loss of a very significant piece of my identity.  Add the diastasis recti to that (and all of the inabilities that come along with it) and I feel like a helpless noodle, a shell of what I once was.

I realize it may sound vain and petty of me, but it is hard sometimes to value your physical self when your mind is willing, but your body is not ready.  When you were once strong and able, and you very suddenly become reliant on others to accomplish the most mundane tasks, it messes with your head.  It goes beyond the self-consciousness that accompanies the postpartum body:  it is less about image, and more about dwindling abilities.  Diastasis recti inhibits the ability to bend over and pick something (or someone) up; PFPS inhibits the ability to squat down and pick something (or someone) up.

Every time I pick up my beautiful baby girl, I have to ask myself, Where would I rather feel pain today:  my abdomen or my knees?

If I have learned anything in my physical journey over the last couple of years, it is this:  I am afraid to grow old.  If I'm experiencing these sorts of ailments now, what will I be like when I'm 80???

In the end, I don't have an answer.  There is not a solution to my knee problem, and it is likely that I will never run competitively again.  (I would be beyond thrilled to even participate recreationally in another 5K, some day in the distant future...)  This is heartbreaking news to me.  It is frustrating.  And angering.  And depressing.  And it has left me feeling rather bitter.

Despite the good/bad news of my "normal" knees, I still am hanging on to hope for my abdominal muscles to make some sort of a comeback.  I still look bulky and swollen in the middle (and am wearing lots of elastic!), but I hope and pray for an eventual recovery.  In about another six months or so, we will re-evaluate the option of surgery but, for now, I am hoping to make progress in physical therapy.

To give you an idea of what true diastasis recti looks like, here are a few images from a simple Google search.  Please note that none of these images are me.**  If you are not faint of heart, Google the phrase "severe diastasis recti."  I warn you that there are several surgical images, however, as well as nudity.)



As you can see, none of these women are overweight, but all have noticeable protrusions and midsections that cannot be concealed.  You can imagine the frustration they probably feel when people ask them when they are due.

Anyway, I've digressed enough.  That's all I have to say for now.  I'll end as abruptly as a French drama...

FIN

**My image actually only appears in one mysterious place on this entire blog.  This is intentional. ;)

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

France 2012 - Carnac

le 2 novembre At around 7 a.m. this morning, Habibi and I set sail (sorry, I'll stop using nautical terms now) for the small, coastal town of Carnac, located in Bretagne  (Brittany).  Upon arriving at the small, cozy  H ô tel An Ti Gwenn  ( Breton  for "white house"), we were warmly received and led to our calm little slice of heaven.  Remember, we had just left our tiny, disgusting fish bowl of a room, so the pleasant smells and fresh, clean bedding were welcome! Exterior view of the  Hôtel An Ti Gwenn View of the back garden from one of our windows Peeking through the main window into the side garden Our clean, fresh salle de bains Notre chambre We stopped for a quick lunch at a local s alon de thé  before heading to the tourism office at the center of town.  The main square was adorned with a lovely old church (typical of just about every French community, regardless of the size), several small tourist shops, bars and  crêperies. A

Mitt Romney: Problem Solver By A Fool's Standards

I know I bash politics a lot because, I'll just come right out and say it, I think they're silly.  My indifference to most things allows me the leisurely amusement of getting a rise out of people who are particularly hot on any given subject.  However, like most individuals who actually do give a shit, I also have a set of criteria on what I look for in a candidate and -republican or democrat- I will vote for whomever I feel best meets that criteria. But today, I find myself at a loss for words. http://www.npr.org/blogs/itsallpolitics/2012/02/15/146929766/why-romneys-shaggy-dog-story-wont-die While I haven't exactly been a Romney fan up until this point, I am somewhat sympathetic to those under constant scrutiny.  I suppose he has faced his fair share.  But we do make our own beds, do we not?  This is positively inexcusable.  I would sooner vote for a chimp in a scuba suit than this imbecile.  Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see all such despicable cr

The Joys of Fall and Eating Dinner

When I was just a little tike, I learned a song about Halloween.  The lyrics went something like this: Jack-O-Lantern, Jack-O-Lantern, You are such a pretty sight, As you sit there in the window, Looking out on the night! You were once a yellow pumpkin, Growing on a sturdy vine. Now you are a Jack-O-Lantern, See the candlelight shine! I know it isn't exactly Hemingway (thank goodness), but poor Habibi found me singing it to myself in the bathroom this morning as I was getting ready for the day.  (Oh, shut up.)  For your enjoyment (obviously) I've included the inspiration for my morning concert below: WE GOT TO CARVE OUR PUMPKIN LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! I love Halloween.  Every year around this time I start to get the jitters as though something terribly exciting and adventurous is about to happen.  I love the crunch of fall leaves, crispy mornings, eerie evenings and smoky nights.  Spooky stories, haunted houses, the smell of a campfire an