New Knee, who dis?

Well guys and gals, I had surgery 3 months ago December 26th. I can't believe it's been 3 whole months and as of January 26th, 4 months will have passed. It's crazy to think how much can change in such a short amount of time. My extension lag is nearly gone, my quad is getting stronger, and surprisingly enough, my left butt cheek is less flabby than it was even pre-injury. Okay, I kid, I kid, but everything is getting a lot better. I got to jog for the first time a couple of weeks ago and it was amazing. I'd forgotten what it was like to feel athletic and capable. Even more so now that I've gotten to jog more.

With physical therapy, I find myself apologizing for things and saying, "If you could have seen me 6 months ago, I was in much better shape than I am now." Of course, they say, "Your'e doing great." And it makes me feel better, but I still feel... I guess embarrassed. I jogged for 5 minutes the other day and it felt like I had run a marathon. The anger I had toward the injury has changed to anger toward myself. I'm angry that things aren't the same as they used to be and I can't just go run two miles, go lift weights, and then the next day get through a two hour practice.

I know, it'll come with time, but my youthful impatience is still here.

I find myself excited to go to physical therapy though. It feels good to be able to jog again. To sweat and jump and realize that I can do things I thought I couldn't before, it's been quite the journey. I feel the same excitement about working out now as I used to. Yes, things are slow, but they are progressing. I mean, I wish I could just get out on the court now and go for 40 minutes, but that's not how life works when you have an injury.

People stare at me just like they used to, only this time I know that it's not because I have a brace on my leg or I limp. Unless I'm wearing shorts, no one can tell I've had surgery. Nobody can see the four scars on my leg. I'm actually kind of proud of them. I've had numerous people tell me ways to prevent scaring, but it doesn't bother me one bit. The four incision scars on my leg show that I got through something hard. I persevered, coming out with more than just renewed muscle strength. These scars remind me that even when life gets tough, in the end, things will work out.

It's been a whirlwind 3 months. My greatest Christmas present?

Feeling like my normal self again jogging in 41 degree weather.

My only New Year's Resolution?

Never give up.

Until next time...

Happy Healing,
Alyssa

Stranger Things : ACL edition

Hey guys, so... a lot has happened since October 26th! Physical therapy is getting better, my leg doesn't swell as much anymore, and I got my brace off. I'm not fully cleared, no, I just got the preliminary brace off. When I start jogging I'll have to have another brace probably and even when/if I get to play again in 2017. Today is senior picture day for basketball and I'm not quite sure how to handle it. It's the second to last time I get to put on my jersey, the last time being senior night on February 10, 2017. That feels weird to type. I never imagined that I'd spend my senior season on the sidelines and get excited about putting on my uniform to take pictures. I haven't worn my basketball shoes since I've gotten hurt, they still stink as much as they did when I was playing.

November 2, 2016 featuring a huge smile
because I got my brace off.

It hit me on Wednesday that I wouldn't actually get to play this season. I had been hopeful and optimistic, of course, but the reality of it is, February 26, 2017 is 5 months post-op and most people don't get cleared until the 6+ month mark. November 26th will mark 3 months I haven't worked out and I hate it. Yes, physical therapy gets me out of breath sometimes, but I haven't broken a sweat in almost 3 months. I want nothing more than to be able to work out again. I know it's coming and it'll be here quicker than I realize, but still. I'm youthfully impatient.

I had a huge cry session on Wednesday when I got home. I was a sobbing, blithering mess. Sitting in the living room with my mom, I let it all out. How much I was hurt and sad and how I didn't know how to handle everything. I didn't know how to not be a basketball player. I still don't know how. How I wanted more than anything for my coach to scream at me to get a rebound and run the floor or make a joke about a missed shot. How I missed setting screens and seeing my teammate shoot and make the shot. I miss everything. I get to watch practice everyday, so that helps a little bit. I miss it. I don't even know how to describe how much I miss it. Wednesday, it felt like everything I'd kept inside for the last 2 months came flooding out. My mom just sat there and listened as I cried and cried.

"You don't love anything else like you love basketball. That's why this is so hard."

She had managed to put into words what I hadn't. I've been able to pick up a basketball since I was 4 years old. It's the love of my life and it defines a really big part of me. I told her that I didn't know what to put all the time and energy I put into basketball into other than basketball. Of course my academics matter, but I'm talking about beside that. I'm still trying to figure it out. With basketball I felt like my life had purpose and passion and I was making a difference. Now, I just feel kind of lost. I know that this is just a bump in the road and there's more to life than basketball, but I still feel lost. I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. That's never stopped me before, but I'm working on getting everything back together. With basketball, I fit in. There was structure and routine and camaraderie. That's all still there, but I don't feel as if I still have the structure and routine, like I said... I feel lost.

I have other hobbies that I enjoy. Reading, writing, taking pictures, baking, cooking, singing. I enjoy all those things, but I love basketball. Because no matter what was going on in my life, or how bad my day was, basketball took my mind off it and for 2 hours a day during the week and endless hours on the weekends, I got to do something that made my heart beat faster. I was happy. I'm still happy now, but it comes and goes.

"It could be worse. You could not have any legs at all."

I hate that. I hate when people say that. I understand that this situation could be worse, but that doesn't mean I'm not allowed to feel sad. By people saying that, it makes me feel bad for feeling the way I do. To put it in perspective:

Think of something you love doing more than anything in this world. What keeps you happy and sane?

Got it? Good.

Now imagine it being taken away from you. You can't do it for an extended period of time.

Sucks, doesn't it?

Exactly. I love that you're trying to get me to look on the bright side, and yes, there is a bright side, but this is still hard. Life altering, emotionally trying, pain in the butt hard. That's why I started this blog.

As I said in a previous post... some days I'm beaming with joy... and some days, I cry over soap and forgetting to turn the coffee pot on.

Until next week.
Happy Healing,
Alyssa

Well, It's Been a Month

Hey Y'all. (Lol, I'm feeling energized even at 5 am.)

September 27, 2016: Still drugged
up, but semi-out of bed. 

So, today marks a month. I seriously can't believe it's been a month since my surgery. 2 months since I tore it, a month post-op, 2 more months before I can start jogging, 5 more months before I can probably start playing again and 6 and a half months until I graduate. To give you an even closer timeline, basketball starts Monday, I have makeup work that I still am trying to get done from when I missed for surgery, and this morning, I made breakfast at 4 am. Homemade biscuits and gravy. Yes, I actually made the biscuits and gravy. Wife me up, boys. Kidding.

It's hard to believe that I haven't worked out in 2 months. Any athlete that reads this knows how hard it is even if you hate practice, how much better you feel after you work out and when you don't work out, you can tell. No, I haven't turned into a blob or raging maniac. Although, I've become a little more doughy in places, understandably. My arms are still nice from when I had my walker, so that's a plus. My leg doesn't swell as much either, but my scars are itchy as all get out. I still have to remind myself how to walk normal and not on my toe, and I went to the doctor Monday and got my knee to 115 degrees. That's only 20 degrees away from normal. However, it may take me the next 5 months to get that 20 degrees.

I still have some pain, but not excruciating. It's just a dull annoyance now. Compared to what it was just three weeks ago, I'd rather have a dull annoyance than something that keeps me awake at night. It gets stiff because where I live it's getting cold. #Fall #Leaves #JustGirlyThings. I have a little bit of confidence going down the stairs, but still go at a slow pace much to the annoyance of my classmates. I apologize and they say, "You're fine." and I know it's not but it's fine, I'm fine.

On a more positive note, I get to get back in the weight room soon. DON'T START WITH TELLING ME NOT TO DO LEG STUFF.

I know. Trust me. Everyone including Obama has told me.

I figure I'll keep my arms nice and tone up my core while I'm down so I can at least be hot and cripple instead of just cripple. WHICH I'M NOT CRIPPLE. I HAVE TWO GOOD KNEES.....

 One is just wonky right now.

I'm excited to be getting back to my old self, somewhat. People still stare in public and that kind of hurts, but I'm so used to it by now, I just smile and keep walking. Well, kinda walking. I feel more than capable some days and there are still days where I want to go outside in the dark and scream obscenities at the sky.... However, I spare my neighbors ears and try to figure out a way to put it to you guys with no obscenities.

I was talking to my psychology teacher and when she asked me how I was doing, I said, "I'm good." and for the first time in 2 months, I actually meant it. I'd gotten up at 4 that morning and today the same thing. I got up, did my homework, cooked some breakfast, had my coffee and went to school. Yes, it makes for a long day, but I felt like I'd accomplished something for the first time since my injury. Being out for an extensive period of time when I was as active as I was has made me feel quite less-than a few days in a row. I mean, I know I'll continue to get better, but guys.... it's still hard even a month after surgery.

People ask me all the time why I get up so early. It gives me time. God forbid I get up at 7. I feel so rushed and in a tizzy. Getting up when it's still dark outside is so calming. I have 3 or 4 hours before school that I can just have time to myself and get things done. A month ago, all I wanted to do was sleep. Heck, that was even the case two weeks ago. Admittedly I was depressed. I still am in a way, but it's not as bad as it was. Even losing a scholarship offer because a girl who played a similar position to me committed and having this injury and playing catch-up with school, I find myself wanting to be awake more and more. Like I said, there are good days and bad days, but now... the bad days have become less frequent.

I don't know if anyone reads this, or if you do, what you're religious beliefs are. Everyone's been telling me "God has a plan." and for a while, I would agree, but in my mind tell them they're full of crap and I was mad. I was mad at myself, my leg, everything. #ThanksObama. Now I realize that God really does have a plan even if I'm not meant to know what it is. From almost dying when I was born, to breaking my hip, to braces, to now, God has had a plan for me. "God doesn't call the qualified, he qualifies the called." I saw that on Facebook and it really put things in perspective for me.

In the bible class I'm taking, we're talking about the prophets and how God chose people who weren't in the spotlight to lead others to him. I mean, techinally, I'm not a prophet or anything, but the more I think of it, the more I resonate. I have teammates and know athletes that have been written about in newspaper articles, ESPN write-ups, raved and reviewed with thousands of Instagram and Twitter followers. I used to want all that. I wanted to be the All-American that everyone wanted and I wanted to go to Tennessee and play with Candace Parker and be that caliber of an athlete. I wanted the spotlight. The more I think about it now...... the less I want the spotlight. I've seen what it does to people and am thankful God has lead me down the path he has even if it's been super bumpy along the way. I'm not qualified for much, but I feel like with everything that's happened in the past 2 months, God is qualifying me for something. I don't know what it is, but I feel it.


Anyway, that's pretty much all that's gone on. Have a great week and don't take anything for granted.

Untill next week.
Happy Healing,
Alyssa

3 weeks later

A lot has happened since I last updated. I got off my crutches, so there's a positive. A few negative things have also been thrown in there, but we'll get to those. For right now, I wanna focus on the positive! Physical Therapy has started, which is a daily shocking with e-stem followed by range of motion and then straight leg lifts. My school has a pool so I'm kind of excited for that, but also nervous. We had volleyball senior night with of course equals all the feels.

Senior Night with two of my favorite people. Yes,
I'm the one in the knee brace. 

I got to visit a college for basketball which was fun and I'm hoping they'll call me back with good news, etc. My brace hopefully comes off Monday at the appointment with my surgeon and then next Wednesday will be one month post op! Lots of excitement! My scars are itchy, but only the one where they grafted my hamstring is the nasty looking one. I've been having a good time trying to get full extension and walk normal as well.

Now to get to the negatives. Today in my psychology class we were talking about anger and something that really hurt us and I started talking about my injury. I'm not really the type to talk it out and tell other people how I feel especially about this. I cried a little bit of course, and for the rest of the day, I felt off. I got a phone call I thought I was ready for, but I really wasn't. Today hasn't been the greatest day, admittedly, but I still am not sure how to put how I feel into words.

Like I said in previous posts, there's gonna be ups and downs. For me, right now, I'm kind of down, but I always put on my brave face and keep smiling.

That's pretty much all I got for this week other than I'm tired, but my leg hurts a little less each and everyday.... my heart too.

Until next week, peeps.

Happy Healing,
Alyssa

A Week Late and A Steri-Strip Short

I really did have a walker.

Today makes 2 weeks since I had surgery. It's been a tough two weeks. I had a walker which was a pain in the rear, literally and figuratively. Mentally, everything has kind of rollercoastered. It's not so much that I'm still upset that I tore it. I've gotten over that. It's the fact that I reclassed as a junior to get a second chance with basketball and I had dreams of what I wanted to do and now I can't do them. No, I'm not saying I can't ever do them again, I just can't do them until February or March which is a huge bummer.

Today, Monday, was pretty tough. I still lean on my mom for some things, but now she's expecting me to be a little more independent. It's frustrating for me, I guess because I got used to her helping me. But that's how life goes. No one is going to help me all the time and I've learned that over the course of growing up. My leg still hurts. Yes, 2 weeks later, it still hurts. Not like, cry in pain hurt, but annoying enough to where Ibuprofen was definitely needed. I visited with a teammate of mine who tore her labrum and had surgery Thursday. The post player and the best defensive player on the team both hurt before their senior seasons.... who would have thought?

Today has gotten me thinking about all the goals I had. I wanted to be my Conference Player of The Year, I wanted to get my knees and ankles stronger, and funnily enough, I looked forward to when my coach yelled, "Seminole Break!" It's a hard drill, but now that I can't play anymore, I miss the rigorous practices and games we'd have. I miss being able to run. I miss being able to walk normally.

My gait isn't quite there yet. Yes, I know it'll take time, but I still have a right to complain about it. I know there are people out there who have lost limbs, etc, but just because people have it worse than I do doesn't invalidate my feelings about my injury. Just wanted to let y'all know. Moving on, for an accurate representation of my life right now, I made cookies, got up to put them on the table and dropped the entire plate. In. The. Floor. Yes, you read that right. That's how my life is going right now.

I'm nervous about physical therapy and I'm scared to death about hurting my knee again. I guess anyone who gets hurt is always scared of doing it again but there are those who go back at it fearlessly. It's easy to act as if I have full confidence in my left leg, but I don't. Of course, that's understandable, but I'm not afraid to admit that even though people say I'm young and will heal, this was a life-altering injury for me. In a split second, my chances of playing college basketball at the level I wanted were cut in half. Yes, I'll play college basketball, but it still hurts. Yes, I'll heal, but it still hurts. It hurts that I don't get to play my senior year. Yes, I have college, but I had goals for this year. I wanted to be there for my team. My leg let me down and I feel like I've let my team down.

Having an ACL injury is more mental than it is physical. My leg will heal. My heart and mind will take a little longer. For a while, I would tell my mom, "My knee doesn't hurt. My heart hurts, mommy." And I'd start to cry and it was a daily struggle to get out of bed. I still struggle sometimes and then I smell coffee and it makes it a little easier.

If your knee hurts or your heart hurts, I'm always here.

Happy Healing,
Alyssa

From The Gym To The Operating Room

I found out four days before my 19th birthday I had torn my ACL, sprained my MCL, and there was a slight tear on my Medial Meniscus in my left leg. All during my Senior season of Volleyball, and ever so conveniently before my Senior season of basketball. Huge bummer, right? Well, at the time, I sobbed. I thought everything was going wrong and there was no way anything good was going to happen for me. My coaches and my teammates were bummed for me. This was my first time actually playing volleyball and we had a great rhythm going and at 7:50 on August 26th, it seemed my world had come crashing down.

At the time, I thought I had just dislocated it. It scared me when I fell more than it hurt, but it still hurt. I didn't hear any pop or anything and I could bend it slightly enough to where I naively thought it wasn't my ACL. At first, I thought it was. I laid on the hard gym floor and thought, "This is what it's like to tear your ACL. This is what my teammates have gone through." Yet I still hoped it wasn't. Fast forward to August 30th, and my surgeon was the bearer of bad news. During all of this, I was doing physical therapy, shocking my leg once a week and doing seemingly useless stretches everyday that in 2 weeks, got my leg to 135 degrees, which is normal even with a torn ACL. 

My surgeon wanted to wait another two weeks to give my MCL time to heal and at the next appointment, we scheduled surgery for September 26th. I was nervous, admittedly. He explained that he'd take a tendon from my hamstring and quadruple it and that'd be my new ACL. If it tore during the procedure, they had another one they could use, but it'd be better to use my hamstring instead of someone else's.

It would be the first time I had ever had surgery. I was confident in my doctor. He seemed like he knew what he was doing. I googled him and spent a few hours reading about his background and that settled my nerves a little bit. 

I couldn't shave my legs up to 2 days prior to having surgery. I shaved them Saturday morning and of course nicked myself all over because my hands were shaky. Sunday, the 25th, came faster than I wanted it to and as I showered with the annoying anti-bacterial soap, I fought with myself not to cry. I thought about all the plans I had for my senior season, and even college. 

Getting ready for bed, I couldn't sleep, obviously. My mind was on edge, running a million miles a minute and it seemed like I wouldn't ever go to sleep. Around 2:15 I finally dozed off, only to wake back up around 3:45 to get ready to leave my house. I changed into clean clothes, a red pullover for warmth and a little comfort. My mom, a friend of mine, and I pulled out of the driveway a little after 4 and headed to Northeast Georgia Medical Center in Gainesville. My surgery wasn't until 8:15, but I had to be there at 5:30. 

We got there at 5:09, my anxious self getting out of the car and yes, taking a snapchat of the front of the building. By the time I got in, it was around 5:15 and the security guard looked at me. 

"You must play basketball," he laughed. 

"Yes, sir. Well, I did before this happened." I wasn't really up for talking. 

"ACL?" I only nodded. 

"Where you going for college?" 

"I'm not sure yet."

"Tennessee?" I laughed. I laughed the first really good laugh I'd had in a while. 

"I can keep dreaming."

"You'll get there." By that time, my mom had made it in and we made it up to the second floor, numerous eye rolls at her jokes by the time we sat down. I remember the woman at the desk asking me if I only had two visitors. 

"I got more coming, but two will work for now." My friend and I laughed. There was a cute guy across from us when we sat down. I was too tired to say anything either of them, but man.... he was cute. I was cold, tired, hungry, and scared. More scared than the time I watched American Horror Story alone at night. They finally called me back and the nurse greeted me with a smile. 

"This is for you," she said, handing me a gown, socks and wipes. "Take off everything that comes off." The only thing that made this more awkward: it was my time of the month. Yeah. I know.

All was not lost, however. The nurse acted like she saw this on a regular basis and I still changed. I had to call my mom to come tie the gown and a woman opened the door while she was tying it. I was having a great day so far. The socks they provided kept my feet warm as I waited for the nurse to put the IV in. I hate needles, so I was freaking out. I almost passed out the first time she stuck me and then my mom said, "Think of her as one of your teammates." I calmed down a little bit and she stuck me. They gave me the medicine that dopes you up to where you don't care and all I remember after that, is talking about Tennessee with my Anesthesiologist, going back to the operating room (WHICH WAS FREEZING), the woman telling me to take 2 deep breaths, starting to cry, taking one, and I was out. 

I woke up, my surgeon at the end of my bed and all I got from what he said, "No weight on your leg." I couldn't feel my left leg from my hip down and I was still very drugged up. They took me back to where people could visit me and I saw my mom and friend happily smiling at me. 

"Coach Earnhardt and Teka are here, Coach Wright and Coach Provine too," my mom beamed. She makes me laugh, guys. I don't remember what I said, but soon Coach Wright and Coach Provine came to see me. 

Left to Right: Coach Wright, Me, and Coach Provine

"How are you doing?" Coach Provine asked. 

"I'm okay. Apparently, I told my Anesthesiologist I loved him and my surgeon I googled him." 

"Well, at least you didn't say he was an a-hole," Coach Wright laughed. The three of us kind of laughed together. Before they left, I kind of slurred, "We gotta take a selfie!" I laugh about it now, but at the time, if they had said no, I would have cried. We took a selfie, and I didn't realize how bad I looked until a few days later, but hey... nobody looks great after surgery. Coach Earnhardt and his wife, Teka, came next, I was excited to see them. The nurse came in when they were there, and I smiled, "This is my coach and his wife. My mom and dad away from my mom and dad." You guys, even drugged up, I love them both so much. 

Anyway, they left after a couple jokes and small talk. I kind of teared up at the fact the four of them came to see me. That and the nurse brought me some coffee. It was a pretty solid day. By the time I got home, I was still out of it. Having a huge fiasco trying to get in my house, I eventually scooted across the porch on my butt and finally got inside. 

This was just surgery day, guys. Check back tomorrow for more updates and if you're going through an ACL injury right now, I'm right here with you. 

Happy healing,

Alyssa