Yet Another Update On My Shoulder

It’s flu shot season, which means that the traffic has started to pick up on my first post regarding the shoulder injury I suffered as a result of my flu shot in early 2014. I’m sorry to see so many comments from others that they’ve had similar experiences and to see the same question over and over: will this ever get better?

I guess I’m overdue for an update on my own experience with SIRVA. When I last discussed this over a year ago, I had received yet another steroid injection for my shoulder when the pain returned. That particular cortisone shot left me feeling that I was finally done with treatments as my shoulder felt fine for all of winter and much of the spring.

But then in April of this year, I was again aware of that nagging ache coming from my left shoulder. I tried to be gentle with that shoulder for a week or two, hoping it would go away, but like before it only intensified and I noticed my pain-free range of motion decreasing.

When I visited my ortho doc in May, he ordered new x-rays to check for any calcification in the joint that could be causing pain. The x-rays were uneventful, and the diagnosis remained as a reoccurring bursitis. He gave me another cortisone injection, and we both hoped that this would be the final shot needed. After all, if the previous one lasted for eight months, maybe this one would last even longer…like permanently?

It wasn’t meant to be.

My doctor and I reunited in September when I had agonizing shoulder pain that was making it difficult to even get dressed each day. The pain was sharp with certain motions, and otherwise a low-grade ache the remainder of the time. Ibuprofen did little to help.

At this point, all I wanted was another cortisone injection to stop the pain. Which meant I was ready to cry when my doctor declared that it was time to stop the shots.

But…WHY?

He said that over time the cortisone shots can begin to lose their effectiveness, and each injection can increase the risks of additional damage to the joint. Surgery was presented as the next step to clean out the shoulder joint and look for any scar tissue or damage to remove.

The bad news: my chances of having the pain resolved by surgery (and physical therapy after surgery, of course) was better than 50-50, but not by much. A high number of patients still have shoulder pain after surgery.

The bad news that related specifically to me: after surgery , there’s no exercise allowed at all for 1-2 weeks, and then no exercise involving the shoulder for another 2-3 weeks.

I was numb at this point. I quickly explained why surgery wasn’t an option for me at that time: I was registered for the Columbus Half Marathon on October 18, with two more half marathons in November. These were my first half marathons, and this was the start of race season; I couldn’t spend 1-2 weeks with no activity to risk or give up on races with a lot of time and money invested. But I also stressed that I couldn’t go on with the pain.

My ortho doc is part of a sports medicine practice, so he understands the needs of athletes. (HA! First time ever that I’ve suggested I’m an athlete. Writing that made me laugh!)

My pleas sunk in. We compromised and agreed on a cortisone shot that day, but that’s the absolute last one. The next time the pain comes back – whether in 3 months, 6 months, 9 months – it’ll be surgery time. I’ll be mindful of this in planning races for 2016, knowing that if the pain comes back right before a big race, I might need to ditch the race or endure the pain until after the race.

Wine and Dine medalAnd I did run those races – more on that soon!

The latest relapse happened after only four months, and even though I wish it would go away, experience tells me it’ll be back. In fact, I’ve started to have a sore shoulder this week, and I keep hoping I slept on it wrong and it’ll go away soon. I’m scared at the thought of surgery and even more worried that I’ll endure the pain and expense of surgery and it won’t work.

My frustration has turned to anger. I’ve previously considered filing an injury report to the federal government and then seeking compensation through the vaccine injury courts, and I may be ready to do it now. In less than two years, I’ve endured a lot of unnecessary pain, I’ve spent a lot of time and money on trying to recover from SIRVA, and now I’m facing surgery, which also won’t be cheap. Had I decided to skip my flu shot in January 2014 or waited to get it at my doctor’s office, it’s likely this never would have happened.



My First Half Marathon: Columbus Half Marathon

Ever since I ran the Princess Enchanted 10k at Walt Disney World earlier this year, I knew I wanted to train for a half marathon. It seemed like a distance that would be a challenge for me to accomplish, but wasn’t so far out of reach that it would be near-impossible.

I had originally planned for the Emerald City Half Marathon in August to be my first half marathon. However, I quickly accepted that I am not a summertime runner, and realized I had not trained enough during the summer to be ready for the Emerald City Half. I don’t like heat and humidity, and this summer was not lacking in either.

In early August, Aaron and I ran the Scioto 10-Miler race to help me build mileage for my half. That race went very poorly for me. I started out great, but by seven miles in I was hurting and my tank was empty. The last two miles were an absolute struggle, and my finishing time was terrible. So after that race I made the decision to drop down to the quarter marathon for Emerald City, which did result in a PR for that 6.55 mile distance.

Emerald CityEmerald City Quarter Marathon

I still needed to get a half marathon in the books, though. So I signed up for the Columbus Half Marathon, which is run as a part of the Columbus Marathon in October. I figured I’d have plenty of time to train for this half in the cooler early-fall weather.

The Scioto 10-miler was as far as I’d get, though. For nearly all of September, I had some strange GI health issues that caused nausea, stomach pain, and left me fatigued most days. I did get some training runs in during that month, but they weren’t as long as I needed, and I was generally wiped out afterward.

In early October I was feeling a little better, and I participated in the Run Like A Girl 10k. I felt great in the cold weather, and while I didn’t have a PR for this race, I did finish strong and felt like I could have kept going. That gave me some hope that the Columbus Half might happen.

October 18 was the big day, and it was COLD. Aaron was running this race, too, but we agreed that he would run ahead of me at his own pace. I think the reason I burned out so badly on the Scioto 10-Miler was that I was trying to keep pace with him, and while he was only trying to help by encouraging me, the result was that I went too fast for me. For this race, we agreed to meet at the end and each run at our own pace.

cold morningThe morning of the race – the very cold morning.

They say you shouldn’t try anything new on race day, but I broke that rule. On long runs, the two greatest problems I have are hitting a wall with my energy around mile seven, and a persistent swelling in my hands until I can no longer bend my fingers.

For this race, I had found a pair of compression gloves for crafters, and decided they could help keep the swelling down in my hands, along with drinking only the Gatorade on the course and not the water. (The swelling comes from hyponatremia from sweating out too much salt.)

I also realized that part of my energy problem was that I don’t have the metabolism of the average person. Most recommendations are to fuel up during the race with simple carbs (sugar) that can be quickly absorbed for energy and won’t upset the stomach. But the more I ate/drank, the faster I ran out of energy. I have hypoglycemia, which means my body overproduces insulin when it detects a sugar surge. This can leave me feeling weak and shaky. So for this race, I packed my usual sport gummies for energy, but I also included a baggie of nuts to eat along the route. The nuts provided fat and protein to slow the sugar absorption, and also gave me a little extra salt to help with the swelling.

We were wrapped up in layers and mylar blankets before the race, trying to stay warm as we waiting in our corral in the 28 degree weather. But then it was finally our time to run.

pre-half marathonWrapped up but ready to go.

I ditched my throwaway jacket before I reached the end of the first mile, finding that I was already warming up quickly. The hardest part at the start of the race was reminding myself to SLOW DOWN. It’s easy to get caught up in the excitement and run faster, but sticking with the intervals and pace I trained with was going to get me to the end.

I’m a Galloway interval runner, so I alternate timed running and walking intervals. I’ve learned that skipping walk intervals early on will only lead to skipping running intervals later in the race, so I forced myself to comply with each walk interval even though I wanted to run more during that first mile.

As we progressed out of downtown and into the Bexley area, I fell into a good rhythm while listening to my music. I could feel my fingers starting to swell and pushing against the compression gloves, but the gloves were keeping them from going any further. The gloves were working!

I also felt great along the course thanks to messages of support from friends and family. I recently learned about the Motigo app from my local chapter of Moms Run This Town, and asked everyone to please record some voice messages of support for me along the course. I can’t fully express how encouraging it was to hear voices of friends and family suddenly pop into my earbuds at certain points along the route, making me laugh and reminding me that I could do this. It’s a free app I highly recommend for other runners to use. (That recommendation is not sponsored in any way. I simply love the app.)

As expected, I reached the start of mile eight and started to feel some fatigue setting in. The nuts were doing their job and keeping me from hitting the wall, but not getting in enough training before this race was starting to have an effect on me. I wasn’t hurting, but I was slowing down a little and my brain felt a little foggy. We reached the Clif Shot Station (packets of energy gel), and I took one just to give it a try. Well…I can now say that eating something with a taste and texture you don’t like will snap your mind back into action quickly! It had the texture of frosting and wasn’t a taste I appreciated. I shuddered as I tossed the remainder away, my mind now fully alert thanks to my disgust.

At this point I accepted the slower pace that kept me comfortable and settled in for the next two miles through German Village. I did stop at the mile 10 flag to grab a quick photo and Instagram it, trying to humor myself with the caption of, “10 mile warmup complete. Time to crush this 5k!” I know, I’m hilarious when I’m half-delirious from fatigue.

Mile 10

Mile 11 was my slowest mile, but it wasn’t until I was in my final mile that everything started to hurt. My right foot began throbbing with each step, my right hip had pain shooting down it for each stride, and each step forward was made by pure willpower. I was back in the downtown area, and the crowds were growing larger the closer I got to the finish.

I had nothing left when I made the final turn. I walked part of it, but when the finish line was in view, I forced myself to run…or shuffle slowly in as much of a run as I could muster. Crossing that finish line, after traveling 13.1 miles, was amazing. Yes, I was sore, and yes, I was stumbling as I moved to the recovery area. But having that medal placed around my neck made me feel like I could do anything. I earned that.

Finisher medals

Everything came together that day to give me that moment of triumph at the end. The weather was good, the gloves controlled my swelling, the food kept me energized, the virtual cheers from friends and family kept my spirits up, and my feet carried me through to the finish. My first half marathon was a success.

Oh, how I hurt that afternoon. And the next day. But you know the crazy part? Not even 24 hours later, I thought to myself, “Let’s do that again.”



Getting Back into the Groove

Well, that was an unintended pause in writing. Let me catch everyone up on how things are going.

First, thank you to so many of you who left comments of support on my last post. I did visit my doctor, and we decided to help things along with an antidepressant. While I can’t say I’m feeling back to my old self yet, I do feel better, and I’m better equipped to sort through my feelings over the losses we’ve gone through this year. Tomorrow will probably be the hardest day to get through – tomorrow would have been my due date for the pregnancy I lost in February – but hopefully once that day is over I’ll feel more closure and can move past it.

Part of feeling depressed has included my unwillingness to be social. I feel some guilt for being a lousy friend over the past few months, but reaching out to others seemed too hard at times. I’m making a greater effort to get back in touch with friends and get out of the house more, even though it’s so much easier to stay home.

The remainder of the summer passed by peacefully here. Cordy and Mira finished summer camp, and we quickly fell into the back-to-school preparations. This year they’re both attending a new school together. Thanks to the enormous efforts of a workgroup of parents, teachers, and administrators (which I was a part of), plans were made last year to launch a new self-contained program for gifted students in third thru eighth grades, and that school was fast-tracked into creation for the start of this new school year. The idea was that it would help address some of different learning and social/emotional needs of gifted students.

Naturally, Cordy was very nervous about starting this new school. (Mira was less nervous, of course.) We visited a few times before the start of the school year to meet her teachers, including her special needs teacher who would be very involved in her daily activities. By the first day of school, she knew most of the staff she would be interacting with on a regular basis, she knew where to find her classrooms, and she was reassured that her teachers understood her unique issues and how they could work together to help her feel less anxious and be ready to learn.

So far? It’s been a fantastic success. Cordy’s teachers have been so sensitive to her needs, while at the same time gently pushing her outside of her safe zone to help her grow. Nearly every morning she gets on the school bus with a smile and – here’s the important part – she is smiling when she gets off the bus at the end of the day, too. I can’t remember the last time she’s been happy every day after school. Cordy is even telling me what they did at school! Again, this is all new, because usually the question of “so what did you learn at school today?” has always been met with, “I don’t remember.” I’m thrilled that she’s enjoying school again.

Back to school 2015First day of school

Mira was happy to discover that two of her best friends are in her new class. This helped her feel at home immediately, although it’s also resulted in some corrections for breaking the rules. She’s high-energy to begin with, but with her friends with her, it’s nearly impossible for her to not talk in class, or in the hallway, or stay on task, or not be too wiggly in her seat. She was recently diagnosed with ADHD, which comes as a shock to no one. Her behavior at school is getting better with effort, though, because she wants to make her teacher happy and be a good student.

The curriculum has also completely engaged Mira. They did a walking tour of the neighborhood around the new school last week, learning about building materials used and why certain styles were chosen. Yesterday, when I picked her up for a doctor’s appointment, she stopped and carefully examined the steps just outside the door. “I never noticed until now, but these steps are made of limestone,” she declared. Apparently they learned how to recognize different stone types while on their tour.

So it seems the school year is off to a great start, which makes me so happy for our kids. We’re all settling into the new routine and hopeful for a positive year ahead.



Going Through The Motions

I didn’t expect to take such a long hiatus between posts, and I can’t even put a lot of blame on being too busy. I have a few posts started and in various stages of completion, and yet I haven’t been able to click publish for any of them.

Truth is, I’m depressed. Or at least, I think I am.

I’ve battled depression before, but it’s hard to remember exactly how it felt many years ago. I remember a lot of sadness – sadness without any cause – when I was depressed before. This time, though, it’s very little sadness and more of a quietly growing sense of…nothing.

It’s been creeping up on me for a few months now, as my interests slowly became less interesting, time alone seemed easier than maintaining friendships, chores could always wait one more day, and feeling nothing replaced feeling anything at all. I want to see friends, but then realize I have so little to talk about with them. It’s as if everything has lost its value to me.

I think it started after my miscarriage in February. Pregnancy hormones mess with my emotions, but having them abruptly stopped midway – and without a fussy baby to keep me busy – seems to be worse than the short periods of postpartum depression I experienced after Cordy and Mira. Back then, I could find myself suddenly crying over a bowl of cereal, or a dish soap commercial, but at least I could easily recognize it and know it wasn’t normal. This new experience of losing interest in everything around me – no crying, no mood swings, just cold, paralyzing indifference – has been silently insidious and, when I really think about it, a little frightening.

That’s not to say that I’ve been a mopey lump all during this time. I’ve been trying to fight it off. I’ve participated in races, running just to feel something, even if it was exhaustion. I’ve smiled for photos, had fun at amusement parks and spent time with family, willing myself to act like everything was alright even if I had the urge to be home in bed a few times each day. I’ve had genuine moments of happiness, too – they’re just more short-lived. And I can absolutely still be happy for the good fortunes of others.

Still smiling with familySee? Still smiling.

But it’s the emptiness that is the hardest to cope with, because it results in a lack of energy to do anything. We all know joy can give you energy and motivation, but anger, sadness, and other negative emotions are equally capable of providing the motivation to power through each day, although arguably not in as healthy of a manner. Even if I was sad, that would be something to urge me into action. (Proof that I did learn something from watching Inside Out.)

Instead, I’m left feeling numb, and numb provides no energy or motivation at all. It’s a condition of stasis – you sit very still and watch the world go by around you, wishing you could be involved and wrap yourself up in the feelings of humanity, but you’re given none of the tools to get up and make it happen. It’s as if your willpower is being held hostage by the great, black Nothing.

SadnessA good visual of how most days feel – too hard to do anything.

There are still the responsibilities that must be done each day, though, and they are accomplished, although not always quite on time and without feeling the appreciation for a job well done. Work is easiest, since I can lose myself in code and spreadsheets easily. Blogging is hardest, since it involves sharing my thoughts and feelings, and I can’t seem to find anything worth sharing. Somewhere in the middle is child care, housework, and personal care, all with varying levels of difficulty depending on the day.

It’s so hard to write about this, because I hate admitting that I’m depressed. I’ve been trying to write this post for over a week and struggling with putting myself out there, but I feel like I can’t move beyond it if I don’t acknowledge it openly. I do worry others will think I’m looking for sympathy or attention, which isn’t the case. I worry more about making people feel uncomfortable around me, or being too boring and blank for others to tolerate.

In many ways, I’m lucky that I’m not experiencing the hopelessness that many feel in more extreme bouts of depression. This may have me down at the moment, but I know I’ll never count myself out.  I remain functional, even if everything takes a lot more effort. And I’m fighting my way through it, day-by-day, with the help of family and friends. Eventually I’ll find a way to bring this wall of apathy down and feel again, no matter how long it takes.

If there’s anything I could share as a takeaway from this post, it would be this: depression isn’t always dramatic and easy to identify, in others or in yourself. Sometimes it’s subtle: slowly chipping away at everything that makes you who you are, suffocating your feelings and suppressing your interests, until all that’s left is an empty person disconnected from the world. Yet on the surface that person still carries on. It’s no way to live, and anyone who finds themselves in that position should seek out help.

Depression can’t stop me, though. Somehow I will get back on track.

 

** Some geeky types may have read the post title and thought it was a reference to the musical episode of the TV show Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. (Season 8, Once More With Feeling) If so, you’re correct! That song sums up my recent condition very nicely. Sorry, no prizes to give out for guessing correctly, but I’ll throw in an animated gif for fun.

bunnies-theory



Runs in the Family

Part of my motivation to run more was the hope that I’d inspire the kids to want to join in on the activity. When we registered for the Princess Half Marathon weekend races, we signed Cordy and Mira up for the one mile race for kids. We expected to see Cordy cross the finish line first, with Mira further behind. But we were shocked when Mira was the first one sprinting across the finish line in under eleven and a half minutes, with Cordy following about a minute later. Mira quickly recovered from the dash and declared she wanted to try longer distances.

I went looking for a 5k that would be friendly to kid runners, especially if she couldn’t do the distance and we needed to slow walk a part of it. Mira insisted it had to be a race with a medal – the kid takes after me in her love of runner bling. I found out about a new race called the MommyMile, which encouraged kids to run along with their moms, and decided it would be a good first 5k for her to do in late April. And it had a medal.

Thanks to some bad weather, we didn’t get in as much training as I would have liked for Mira. The day of the race was chilly, which made me worry that she’d decide she didn’t want to do it anymore. Getting up early on the weekend is bad enough, but getting up early to go out into the cold is even less exciting to a seven year old. Surprisingly, she was still ready to go and looking forward to the race.

Before Mira's first 5k

I had a deliberately slow plan for us: we’d do intervals of 30 seconds of running, followed by one minute of walking. I can run faster intervals than that, but I didn’t want to wear Mira out too quickly.

At the start line, Mira was bouncing with energy, so excited to get started. I reminded her that during our run intervals, she needed to not go at 100% or she’d run out of steam. She agreed that she would run slow and conserve her energy.

Crossing the start line, though, she shot ahead of me, weaving in and out of people with an enormous smile on her face as she glanced back to check where I was. I had to push myself to keep up with her. When my Garmin watch signaled it was time to walk, I called out to her and she slowed, waiting for me to catch up to her. I reminded her to pace herself, and she replied that she was running slow. We repeated this process for several sets of intervals.

But then right before the first mile marker, it caught up to her. She looked out of breath and she told me her side was hurting. “Let’s walk this next run interval and take some deep breaths,” I suggested. She was happy to comply. After she caught her breath, I again suggested running slower, and she finally agreed with me.

Now that she wasn’t huffing and puffing, though, she had enough air to complain:

“This second mile is taking forever!”

“Where is the water station?”

“OMG, we have to run uphill again?”

“I’m SO tired and my feet hurt!”

I can’t blame her – I have many of those same thoughts in the middle of a race, although I usually only say them in my head.

I remained her coach through the entire race, reminding her that she can do anything for 30 seconds, and that she was stronger than she thought she was. I reminded her about the medal at the end, too, and that she had to finish the race to earn the medal.

As we reached the last half mile, the smile returned to her face. “We’re almost there! I can see it!” She had renewed energy and started to run a little bit faster. Seeing people cheering for the runners at the end helped boost her spirits, too. She yelled thank you to those cheering us on as we passed them.

We made the final turn, and with the finish line in sight Mira sprinted towards it as she waved at Aaron and Cordy cheering for us. I could see how proud she was to finish the race and collect her medal. I was proud of her for sticking with it and not giving up.

And – like many runners – despite the complaining during the race, after she had a snack and some water and rested for a bit, Mira asked, “When can I do another 5k?”

Welcome to the club, kid.

Mira's first 5k medal