Obeying the Law

I'm sure everyone out there on the Internet is a cheerfully law abiding citizen.  What?  You're not?  You occasionally speed, or you might possibly have happened to inhale when your buddies (NOT you!) had that smidgen of ganja in college?  Hmm.  Well ok, maybe we can settle on "mostly law abiding."  We won't go any further than that, to protect the uh...innocent.

However, the law we need to discuss today applies more to those of us who have to be mindful of our activity levels, lest we pay for them in misery later.  I refer, of course, to Newton's Third Law of Motion:

"For every action, there is an equal, and opposite, reaction."

"Translation: Push, and something pushes back."

It's a pretty simple concept, really.  And while it has been tested and proven and retested and reproven in physics labs all over the world, anyone who has physical limitations and they will tell you that they do not need a lab.  All we need is our daily lives to show us that if we push, our bodies will, unequivocally, push back.  We know our limits, and yes, I'm talking to you too.  Don't look away, come back here and admit it.  You know your limits, but you don't always follow them, do you?  Exactly.  And neither do I.

My "official" limits, according to the Functional Capacity Evaluation are total restriction of things like kneeling and squatting, and that I can stand and/or walk up to ten minutes out of any given hour.  Ummmm...yeah.  The first part isn't too difficult to avoid.  The second?  Well, let's just say I break nearly every day of my life.  Don't get me wrong: I own this decision.  I blame no one for it, and I accept the consequences of my actions.  But man, oh man, it hurts when I do it.  

There are probably a zillion things every week that I do that I technically shouldn't.  However, there is a fine line, a balance of sorts that one must fine between pushing and pushing too far.  I do push a bit in order to try to keep the muscles that do work toned and strong.  This compensates for the others that don't.  I also do it to gain a little extra strength, in the hopes that some day it may work enough that I can adapt enough to walk on my own.  Hasn't happened yet, I know.  But never say never, right?  

And part of it definitely traces back to pride.  Yes, yes, I can hear it now: "Well duh, Mick, you know what goeth before a fall, and if you push too hard, you will fall."  Believe it or not, I'm not completely clueless here.  However, I have always been an active, physically strong person, and losing that aspect of my very self just isn't an acceptable option for me.  My lower body strength tanked so fast and so hard, and there is really no way for me to reclaim it as of yet.  My upper body, though, has to be strong on the days when I find myself in need of my crutches or wheelchair.  So I do a lot of core strengthening (not enough, though!), and I lift weights as well.  I love the feeling of my muscles working; it's a sensual experience knowing that at least parts of my body are toned and strong.  To me, strength is sexy.  I want that in myself as well.  I find that line, and I push to it with my upper body.

However, I am quite guilty of pushing too far on the lower body, and paying for it later.  Case in point: last year, my friend The Silent One and I went to New Orleans.  As shutterbugs, we spent from early morning til last in the evening eating, drinking (oh, the drinking!), exploring, and shooting all over the French Quarter.  We walked everywhere, scoffing at taxis, and forgetting about street cars until it was too late.  Adrenaline was my main drug of the weekend, feuling my ever present desire to get that next shot with her, see the next treasure of the Big Easy, or meet that next fascinating local personality.  By the time I got on the plane to go home, that adrenaline had started to fade, and I knew I was in for some major problems.  Anyone who has ridden on a plane knows how cramped it is, so when I stood up to change planes in Atlanta, I was nearly dropped from the sudden tidal wave of excruciating pain.  It took my breath away, and flooded my eyes at the same time.  I tend to wait until I'm nearly the last person off so as not to hold people up, but even still, my ability to walk was severely hindered.  I did it, made it home, and managed a snippet of second-wind adrenaline when I saw the kids.

The next morning, however, brought me right back where I had been the night before.  I was hitting the pain pills before I ever left the house that morning for work.  I scraped my way through work, came home, and was down for the rest of the night.  I paid for that excursion for about 4 or 5 days, but I said then, and I would say now, that in the grand scheme of my life, it was worth every second.

So now, I'm leaving on Friday morning for a long weekend.  Guess where I'm going?  And guess with whom I'm going?  Yup.  The Silent One and I, along with Lucille and Alejandro (our cameras), will be back in the French Quarter on Friday afternoon, shooting.  Our favorite Mardi Gras krewe has their parade on Saturday night, and we will be there.  It means standing outside for 2 hours ahead of time to get a good spot, and then dealing with being jostled and knocked during the parade from the crowd.  From there, we head to Bourbon Street to uh...enjoy the local night life.  We'll do all the same things plus some new ones this year.  We will pack as much fun as humanly possible into 4 days.

And then, on Monday night, I will fly home.

I do this knowing that the rest of next week will be sheer physical agony.  I do this knowing that I will need to use my crutches, take extra doses of my pills (yes, floater doses safely built into the regimen), and be nearly useless after work.  I do this knowing that there is the potential for damage if my knee cannot handle the pressure and I fall.  I do this knowing that there are people in my life who think I am a complete idiot for my choices, and who will roll their eyes and tell me that I am indeed, an idiot.

But the bottom line?

Is that I will Push.

Within the navigational beacons*

Dinner last night was fantastic.  I'd scored some tilapia fillets on sale B1G1, so I decided to make them because I knew it'd be quick and easy.  I know a lot of people bake theirs, but I love broiled fish.  Leftover buttermilk became the dredging vehicle, and then a mixture of panko and parmesan cheese combined for the crust.  I broiled them for 4min on one side, flipped them, and put them back in for 5 more min.  I know I probably should've gone green for a side, but we did carrots instead.  Thew hole family raved, and the teenagers went back for seconds.  Now I wish I'd gotten more of them!

I had stuff to do last night, but had also planned on a light workout as well.  I've been in some pain lately, so I didn't want to push too hard.  However, one of the biggest mistakes someone with a disability can make is to stop moving completely.  Joints stiffen, muscles get tight, and soreness will increase, causing a nasty little cycle to ensue.  Bad move.

Every person who works out needs to learn and understand the difference between "sore" and "painful."  They are two vastly different things when it comes to exercise, and mistaking one for the other can have disastrous results.  When you lift weights and feel it the next day as your muscles protest your attempts to get out of bed and in the shower, that's soreness.  This is actually a good thing, as your muscle fibers break down, and then rebuild.  Stretching can ease this, along with heat and massage.  Resting the muscles before pushing them again is essential, but there is no reason to stop exercising. In the same example, though, if you are lifting and feel a sudden, sharp pain in a muscle or joint, it's time to stop immediately.  At this point, continuing could lead to some serious damage.  You need to assess whether it was a momentary torque in your body, or whether there is an actual injury that requires professional attention.

When a disability is brought into play, whether it's temporary or chronic, pain becomes a whole 'nother issue.  In rehabilitative therapy, there is and element of working through the pain a little in order to push your body into working again.  A lot of this come in knowing your own body, but be careful not to create excuses.  There are people in my life who scold me for doing various activities even though I'm in pain, and I have to laugh.  My honest response is, "If I 'rested' every time I was in pain, my sorry tail would never get up off the couch."  There's no exaggeration there.  I am in pain pretty much most of the time, but I am very used to it.  It's relative low level, controlled by medication, and I can ignore it without any trouble.  When it escalates, then I need to pay attention and make a better assessment.

Now, most people are pretty familiar with the visual pain scale, simply by having been to a doctor with an injury or illness.  It usually looks something like this standard one:

However, mine is slightly different than this one.  I thought I'd share it, simply to give you a little more insight into my perspective:

Pain, as a general rule, doesn't so much make me sad or depressed as it gets me mad.  It hinders me from doing the things I want to do, and so I get angry.  In figure 1, you see my normal, dorky self.  At figure 2, the pain level is rising such that I now notice it.  But it's more of an eye-rolling annoyance than much else, and I can go back to whatever activity I was enjoying.  At figure 3, I then need to address it.  And if I have to address it, I'm seriously pissed, because it means that I have to stop what I'm doing, and most likely use [more] mobility assistants or take to the couch.  If I hit figure 4, I don't actually cry, but I usually want to.  (No judgments on people who cry; I'm just not much of a crier for whatever reason.)  At this point, I am on my back with the knee elevated, packed in ice, and am popping pain killers like Pez.

You should always have your own version of this if you're going to exercise when you have limitations.  You need to know your body's boundaries for when it's ok to "push through it" or "ignore it" and when you need to "just stop.  As in now."  Last night, I was hovering around figure 2, so I went ahead and did my push-ups on the ball, and then used the foam roller to stretch out my back and hips.  I had wanted to do some all over stretching, but I've been at this long enough to know that it would not have been a wise idea.  My knee was swelling and slipping, which just would've gotten worse.

Whatever symptoms you experience along with pain need to be monitored closely to figure out your own baseline.  For me, it's swelling and instability.  For others, it might be totally different.  Learn your body, learn your limitations, and listen to them.

That said?  No excuses.  No playing the pain card unless you have to.  Don't ever use your disability as an excuse: you deserve better than that.  If you need to skip a workout, or cut it short, then do it.  Own it, accept it, and let it go.  But respect your body and your spirit enough to only do that when you truly have to.

Strength is within your reach -- you just have to stretch a little to get it.


*If you get this reference, you get a zillion and five brownie points!