Not Taking Life “Easy”
My brother and I were “typical” trouble-makers when we were little. Looking back, I don’t know how my mother didn’t check into the Betty Ford Clinic from some of the stunts we pulled. When I was 6, my brother took a “polaroid” instant photo of me jumping off the garage with a trash bag. (I was at that time, thinking of joining a paratrooper unit). Broken leg. Stitches, broken bones, concussions…the ER staff sent us a Christmas card every year and thanked us for our business.
After high school, I joined the Marines. I left four years of football, wrestling, ice hockey and baseball and traded it for mud, obstacle courses and hand grenades. I loved life. I served 6 years in the USMC traveling all over the world only to return home and realized I had made a mistake by getting out. I called up the US Army to see what their company was all about. I asked for “it” and I got “it”. (My grandfather once gave me a great piece of advice…watch what you wish for, you just might get it…) I served the next 8 years of my life as an Airborne Ranger moving from unit to unit doing time in some of the greatest Special Operations units in the US military. I was jumping out of planes and chasing down bad guys. Now I REALLY loved life!!
While all of this “fun” was transpiring around me, I did manage to find the soul mate of my life, my wife Tina, who devotedly gave me 5 BEAUTIFUL kids that I thank God for each and every day. Managing a military life with a family is no easy task. Between the schooling and real world deployments, it was starting to take a toll on the both of us. In the spring of 2004, I took my boots off for the last time, and never looked back.
Civilian life bites. To work with folks that have never had the pleasure of serving in our Armed Forces, is like Frank Sinatra trying to sing a duet with Marylin Manson. They might be singing, but you can be sure it sounds like sh%t. The adjustment was difficult. Amusing at times, but difficult. I fell back on a harder training regime. I had read somewhere that hard training and working out was a great way to relieve stress. I was running…A LOT. Participating in marathons and triathlons mainly. I was introduced to trail running and found a love that I had once only “heard” about.
I was 38 years-old and running in a 50K trail race in May of 2010 in upstate NY. Great course, good time, not-so-good recovery. My Achilles in my right leg was not taking the recovery time off too well. It was telling me something was not right. Aches and pains are the “norm” for me. I have stock in Advil and Motrin (Christmas cards). But this was different. I went for a recovery run sometime during that week. (ugly) Now I knew something was definitely wrong, and I was pissed. I had it in my mind that these types of injuries only happen to old people and athletes that have signed a contract they weren’t deserving of. Reluctant to see a doctor, I iced it, layed low for a few weeks and attempted to lick my own wound rather than let a higher authority know that I really may have screwed myself up. (ignorance is bliss)
After playing nurse, Dr., judge and jury in my own case, I sucked it up and saw the Doc. After an MRI, he showed me that if I didn’t have this thing repaired, (and soon), that someone with my lifestyle, that a complete rupture was inevitable. The procedure sounded simple enough but I still wasn’t sold on the deal. So, I played the waiting game and continued to press my luck. It wasn’t getting any better. Worse if anything at all. Actually to the point where I couldn’t even sit in a car for any length of time before trying to stand up in pretty bad pain.
Fast forward to January 28, 2012. A new year, a new Dave. I had the surgery completed and really don’t like being immobilized. I don’t like crutches and I REALLY don’t like things that get in the way of crutches. (My 4 year-old really likes the idea that she can take me down in a foot race, though). I’m coping with recovery. At 4 weeks PO, i was PWB. At 5, I stood and walked, (limped), for the first time since surgery. I’m at week 6 and walking in a boot, (lying to my Doc), and feeling really good. Reading posts hear really give you some wonderful inspiration and motivation. Definitely a different outlook on the events leading to this point.
Life is good, (for now), and most definitely brighter than the last year or so…
Rangers Lead the Way & Semper Fidelis
One response so far
My man, a great story. I unfortunately went six weeks before getting the right diagnosis — complete rupture; and then as it turned out, more six weeks after that until surgery. If I had a redo, I would have taken the pain more seriously and “socialized” the problem immediately. (I thought at first it was a torn calf muscle — a problem that would largely heal itself in a few weeks). Self-reliance is good, but not to point of semi-psychosis. A family problem, in my case. Starting, perhaps, with stories about my dad I won’t tell here.
The life lessons I’m trying to — or being forced to relearn: trusting others, being patient, and realizing my situation is shared and common not unique or special. I’m starting Week 7 this Friday, and hobbling around with the boot and a walking stick. But I’m also not rushing things. Think my Dr. is highly competent, experienced, and considerate — so I’m going to follow the plan. Start physical therapy on schedule, take it a bit conservatively even at first, and focus on the long-term goal.
The great benefit has been reconnecting with various people who want to help. Family, friends, and even some complete strangers. Check my ego, stop thinking of myself as the person who always has to solve the problem, and get with the program. Plenty of other people have had to deal with far more and far worse and done just fine.
Wishing you a full recovery. And during the process, the patience we all need when things slow down, or the occasional minor reversal occurs. And just good fortune w/ the rest of your life.
Best w/ all.