One Month Post Op

I love it when an old Cuban guy at my gym in Hialeah tells me to bend my legs more so my dad doesn’t have to bend over that much to spot me on pull ups. I love it even more when he tells me his experience with “microscopic” knee surgery after my dad tells him I’ve just had surgery, thinking that would shut him up. And it is truly the best feeling when I see him the next day, proceeding to tell me how I’m going to have problems with my knee for the rest of my life, because it’ll never be the same. Yup. Welcome to Miami.

I thought about this post a lot. Frankly, it was very difficult to write anything after the last blog without getting depressed. So here it is, 1 month down with much less depression and ya girl is FINALLY walking (somewhat) NORMALLY. Within the past month, I’ve gotten high off oxy, danced at a wedding before I learned how to walk, gotten my knee bent and straightened to the point where I could throw up from the pain, learned how to sit and stand on the toilet with BOTH legs, and taught myself (again) how to put pants on while standing up. Quite eventful, if I do say so myself.

Here are some tips for anyone undergoing any kind of operation that will leave you immobile for a couple weeks: treat yo damn self. Even if you’re a guy, get a pedicure, because those shits will get crusty AF only after a couple days. Shave your legs because I bet your lazy ass will not do so for a week or two even after you’re mobile. Finally, get a tan, like as dark as you can get because you will be indoors for at least two weeks, and your increasing lack of color will further lead to your depression, and we don’t want that. So get yo pale ass out to the beach before you get surgery.

I kinda joke about the resulting depression, but it really did hit me like a truck this time. I’ve obviously had injuries before that kept me out for a couple weeks, 2 months at most probably, if even. How in the world am I supposed to adjust my life to the next 9 months (now 8) of not doing the thing that makes me feel the most alive? I didn’t know, and I still don’t know. 2 weeks post op, I was thinking to myself how surreal this situation felt. I had the same feeling when I first committed to Loyola; I just couldn’t believe I had finally done it. I couldn’t believe the fact I had surgery or that I wouldn’t be playing soccer for a long time. And when it finally hit me, you guessed it, another breakdown. But I managed that one too, and haven’t had one in almost 3 whole weeks. It’s like an accomplishment of not peeing in the bed. My eyes no longer water and my lip no longer quivers when I think about the day I found out in the doctor’s office. I think that’s progress.

Another note about progress, with this kind of rehab you really cannot compare your progress to someone else’s. That’s a very dangerous game you’re playing with yourself. I remember in the first couple weeks I started doing leg presses, I would compare the weight I was using to some old guy’s who was using the machine before me. And whichever old fart was on the machine usually did a higher weight. So it’s not just other people who have had the same injury/ operation you can’t compare yourself too, it’s the old people too. Just don’t compare yourself to others, it’s bad mojo that we don’t need.

The old Cuban guy at the gym was right, not about the microscopy of the surgery but about never being the same. I can’t be the same; it is physically impossible, as I literally have a new part in my body. I may be better; I may be worse. I may come back stronger; I may come back a chicken shit. Who knows? I sure as hell don’t. That scares me a lot, the not knowing. But it’s out of my control, not even close to within reach, so as my roommate says, stop worrying about it. I really should take her advice more often.

Since the injury, I am the happiest I’ve ever been, which isn’t saying much, but it’s definitely a start. Have I found a replacement for soccer? Absolutely not. Will I ever? Eh, probably not, knowing me. I don’t know any rich princes lying around. I am the most athletic-looking I’ve been in a month and a half, which, again, isn’t saying much; I just finally have a left leg, so I guess I’m the most human-looking I’ve ever been. I would say summer school is keeping me from achieving true happiness, but I won’t say anything bad about work because my dad reads this, and I work for him. #nepotism #at #its #best

P.S. I hope everyone enjoys this pic, because I shaved for it.