They say if you do something for 21 days straight, it becomes a habit. I believe it, but I think there's some grey area as well. For one, I certainly think you can develop habits without doing them for 21 days straight...especially "bad" habits. I also think if you miss making your bed a few times during a 3-week period, you won't lose the magic of having it be part of your habitual routine. Hey, I'm no expert on habit-forming patterns, but that's my input.
Nonetheless, I have made it 21 days. Yes...I had surgery 21 days ago. I tore my ACL 50 days ago...not that anyone's counting. If having a torn ACL can become a habit, I've done it. And I've done it well, if I do say so myself. I do not wake up in the morning cursing the ceiling and whatever floats above it for the detriment that is this tragic tear. I get up and hobble toward my morning routine. At the end of it, I put on my brace in perfect 6-strap sequential order, and I get on with the day. I no longer feel the looming heartbreak of being "broken." Does it come up? Yes, of course. I spent the weekend at a lake the past 3 days, and there were multiple activities I would normally be up for that I didn't take part in...wah wah. I did, however, take a trip to the lake...so there's that. Life goes on. And it has. I am 21 days deep, and I have many more to go, but habitually speaking, I've got it down. While I'm fragile and vulnerable in certain scenarios, for the most part, I enjoy being treated just like a normal-kneed individual.
Most of my friends are pretty good at that. For one, we've all been friends long enough that they've seen me go through the other 2 surgeries. The questions are limited, but valid. The sympathy is prevalent, but not over-bearing, and the overall social outreach has not withered. They do, however, look out for me. They help me carry large loads, walk on uneven terrain, and get as comfortable as possible in all seated situations. There are always occasional "Don't do that," "Be careful," and "OMG, STOP IT!" moments, but they are fleeting and forgivable.
Friends are pretty important when you have an injury as an adult. I was always laden with stitches, casts, and slings from the time I was an infant, but I lived at home. I had my mommy. And the excuse of being a kid. I was an athlete with injuries. I was a risk-taker, slightly daring, and I was wild. I considered injuries well worth it if I got to be a hero in the mix. Whether that was an insane or admirable quality - well - I'm sure opinions will vary. My mother wasn't a huge fan. Regardless, I was taken care of. When I was 12, my basketball team was in the summer playoffs, and I was pumped and fueled to take us to the championship. One week before the first playoff game, my brother's long-distance girlfriend came to visit. She got on our trampoline in the backyard and showed everyone her back flip skills. I had mastered the front flip and many of its variations, so I didn't see why a back flip would be any different. My dad, who traveled frequently, was in town, so I bounced around for a bit, and then I invited him out to see my new trick and show off. He obliged willingly. I took a few big hops, threw my hands over my head, and pushed my momentum in a backward motion. It took me about a quarter of a second to realize I was not going to make it all the way back around. I smashed down, landing on my head, and crushing my neck. I heard my dad scream, and the next thing I knew I was laying stiff as a board on the coach, and out of commission for some time. Including my basketball playoffs. I got to show up with a neck brace on for a sliver of the action (we lost), but I completely missed them. I wasn't paralyzed, the trampoline got sold, and I was posted up on the couch for a substantial amount of time. My meals were brought to me, I was driven around, my progress was monitored, and eventually I got well enough and got back to hoops. Injuries at home felt like a breeze, looking back...I barely had to think about them. 27-year old me might make a different decision.
Now, however, I'm in charge. I could totally wreck my recovery if I got desperate enough. I've done it before. I could consider pushing myself more than my surgeon recommends, simply to be the hero of my own demise. Or...I could neglect my recovery. I could say that I can do my PT without any help, skip the gym, and jump in the lake just to prove that I can be just like everyone else. I live alone. No one monitors my everyday movement, motion, and morale...I have full command here. Forming good, healthy habits is probably a smart idea. If I'm 21 days in, that means time is doing its job, and moving forward. There's something about having my physical ability rely directly on my own attitude and energy that keeps everything from feeling hopeless. As mentioned fervently throughout my blog entries, my support system is outstanding. I can only hope other people have this. Sam Bradford, especially - it sucks to go down minutes before opening weekend in the NFL and to have a million articles written up about doing it "again." I'm here for you, Sam.
Nonetheless, I have made it 21 days. Yes...I had surgery 21 days ago. I tore my ACL 50 days ago...not that anyone's counting. If having a torn ACL can become a habit, I've done it. And I've done it well, if I do say so myself. I do not wake up in the morning cursing the ceiling and whatever floats above it for the detriment that is this tragic tear. I get up and hobble toward my morning routine. At the end of it, I put on my brace in perfect 6-strap sequential order, and I get on with the day. I no longer feel the looming heartbreak of being "broken." Does it come up? Yes, of course. I spent the weekend at a lake the past 3 days, and there were multiple activities I would normally be up for that I didn't take part in...wah wah. I did, however, take a trip to the lake...so there's that. Life goes on. And it has. I am 21 days deep, and I have many more to go, but habitually speaking, I've got it down. While I'm fragile and vulnerable in certain scenarios, for the most part, I enjoy being treated just like a normal-kneed individual.
Most of my friends are pretty good at that. For one, we've all been friends long enough that they've seen me go through the other 2 surgeries. The questions are limited, but valid. The sympathy is prevalent, but not over-bearing, and the overall social outreach has not withered. They do, however, look out for me. They help me carry large loads, walk on uneven terrain, and get as comfortable as possible in all seated situations. There are always occasional "Don't do that," "Be careful," and "OMG, STOP IT!" moments, but they are fleeting and forgivable.
Friends are pretty important when you have an injury as an adult. I was always laden with stitches, casts, and slings from the time I was an infant, but I lived at home. I had my mommy. And the excuse of being a kid. I was an athlete with injuries. I was a risk-taker, slightly daring, and I was wild. I considered injuries well worth it if I got to be a hero in the mix. Whether that was an insane or admirable quality - well - I'm sure opinions will vary. My mother wasn't a huge fan. Regardless, I was taken care of. When I was 12, my basketball team was in the summer playoffs, and I was pumped and fueled to take us to the championship. One week before the first playoff game, my brother's long-distance girlfriend came to visit. She got on our trampoline in the backyard and showed everyone her back flip skills. I had mastered the front flip and many of its variations, so I didn't see why a back flip would be any different. My dad, who traveled frequently, was in town, so I bounced around for a bit, and then I invited him out to see my new trick and show off. He obliged willingly. I took a few big hops, threw my hands over my head, and pushed my momentum in a backward motion. It took me about a quarter of a second to realize I was not going to make it all the way back around. I smashed down, landing on my head, and crushing my neck. I heard my dad scream, and the next thing I knew I was laying stiff as a board on the coach, and out of commission for some time. Including my basketball playoffs. I got to show up with a neck brace on for a sliver of the action (we lost), but I completely missed them. I wasn't paralyzed, the trampoline got sold, and I was posted up on the couch for a substantial amount of time. My meals were brought to me, I was driven around, my progress was monitored, and eventually I got well enough and got back to hoops. Injuries at home felt like a breeze, looking back...I barely had to think about them. 27-year old me might make a different decision.
Now, however, I'm in charge. I could totally wreck my recovery if I got desperate enough. I've done it before. I could consider pushing myself more than my surgeon recommends, simply to be the hero of my own demise. Or...I could neglect my recovery. I could say that I can do my PT without any help, skip the gym, and jump in the lake just to prove that I can be just like everyone else. I live alone. No one monitors my everyday movement, motion, and morale...I have full command here. Forming good, healthy habits is probably a smart idea. If I'm 21 days in, that means time is doing its job, and moving forward. There's something about having my physical ability rely directly on my own attitude and energy that keeps everything from feeling hopeless. As mentioned fervently throughout my blog entries, my support system is outstanding. I can only hope other people have this. Sam Bradford, especially - it sucks to go down minutes before opening weekend in the NFL and to have a million articles written up about doing it "again." I'm here for you, Sam.
While my accumulation of injuries over the years has not died down, the ACL surgeries have certainly taken the cake for the longest recoveries. Regardless of any heroics, the repercussions have not exactly been "worth it" so to speak. Perhaps they have taught me valuable life lessons and allowed me to get to know myself on a "new" level...or perhaps they've just prolonged the next risky movement my body makes. Either way, time marches on. Have I created new habits? Something like that. Have I broken old ones? Some...though how can I really be sure? I should probably scrub my stove more. Eat less dessert. Make my bed more than 3 days a week. Watch fewer trashy television shows. Take the F word out of my vocabulary. But I haven't. And being 21 days post op has not added to my greatness or likeability. Having 3 surgeries hasn't either. It has, however, shifted my mind set to allow myself to feel proud and hopeful for the long haul. Will I think about doing a back flip and what it might prohibit from doing now? Most likely. Gone is the habit of hazy uncertainty. The hype behind Sam Bradford was immediately that he will never step foot on an NFL field again. Perhaps 21 days will bring him some new odds-defying habits as well. Until then, we bend 10 degrees at a time, we learn to live with the brace, and we cut through our goods and bads. Hey, we put our pants on one leg at a time, too. We just reinforce said leg with a little extra support.