You Are What You Do, Except When You Can’t

I believe that what you do – how you spend your time, your priorities – offer the strongest statement about who you are. But what happens when you can’t do the things that are most important to you?

The horse show season started later than planned for me this year. There just seemed to always be something. A fall in December resulted in a pulled calf, broken finger and detached ligament that took forever to heal and put a stop to my 2x/week lessons for more than a month. Then, that irritatingly persistent respiratory infection that’s gone around the country managed to turn into pneumonia. I sucked it up, took my antibiotics and managed to put things together enough to have good rides in the Melissa Allen Clinic in February – but the effort left me so wiped out I spent two days on the couch. Then in late March, nagging knee pain that flared up whenever I worked out “too hard” or ran more than two miles started becoming a daily nuisance. During a lesson, Elf spooked and I bailed – despite not hitting my knee on anything, it was swollen and bruised. And stayed that way for more than three weeks. There wasn’t much pain, just the occasional sharp twinges and dull aches when I was on my feet for a long time, but the swelling wouldn’t go away.

I finally broke down and went to the doctor. After an exam and an xray, I left the doc’s office with an MRI appointment and a referral to both PT and the orthopedist for after my MRI. The doctor suspected a torn MCL or bursitis. I was told to ice my knee 5-6 times a day, stay off of it as much as possible and alternate Tylenol and Ibuprofen to try and reduce the swelling. She also said she’d recommend that I didn’t ride, except that she had a feeling I wouldn’t follow it. So, instead, I was told to only be as active as I was able to without pain.

Knowing that there was a possibility that after my May 6 MRI I would be off riding, I kicked up the lessons, asked my trainer for some pro rides and got ready to get at least one show in before I had to take time off for my knee. It was quickly apparent that although I wasn’t feeling much pain, the injury to my knee dramatically affected my strength and stability on that side. At home, we were able to make it work but I found myself concerned about the impact of the atmosphere at a busy CDI show – so we backed down to Training level with the intent of concentrating on clean, relaxed tests.

Best Laid Plans

With everything seeming on track and my husband laughing at my creative knee icing routines every evening (I used Elf’s ice boot), I found myself running through possible scenarios. How long would it take to treat my knee? Maybe some time in full training would be good for Elf? Summer is always takes some creative juggling with my son home from school so maybe this was for the best.

Then, the weekend before the horse show, a busy few days resulted an increasingly swollen knee that suddenly appeared to be bruising again for no apparent reason. A call to my doctor resulted in a trip to the ER for an anti-inflammatory injection to try and reduce the damage from continued swelling.

Sitting in the ER for the obligatory 20 minutes after the injection to watch for reaction, the impact of having to take significant time away from riding suddenly became real. Throughout this winter and spring of busy work schedules, illness and injury, I’ve rarely gone more than a week without riding. And even then, there were trips to the barn. The idea of not being able to ride for potentially 6+ weeks feels like an eternity.

I found that sinking feeling lingered as I prepared and headed to the show in Houston. The show routine -being on my feet much of the day, multiple rides, the 3 hour drive – all hammered home the reality that even if this doesn’t turn out to be an MCL tear, the injury is significant and will require healing time. Each night, I returned to the hotel to spend 2 hours doing the elevation/ice on/ice off routine so that I could walk and ride the next day.

It’s not the only thing, but…

I have varied and wide ranging interests. I ride. I am an avid photographer. Obviously, I’m a writer. I also crochet, enjoy cooking, and have been teaching myself to make small wood working projects.

But of all those things, riding is the only that is part of how I define myself. My home is filled with equestrian details – photos, vintage hunt prints, snaffle bit napkin rings, old leather halters hanging on the wall, a tack trunk offering blanket storage. The barn is where I go when I just don’t have the energy to handle the world (I’m an introvert, it happens regularly). When the Army moved my family to Central Texas, the barn was where I found my support system during 18 months of my husband being more gone than home. After being here for almost 3 years, those barn friends are the people I go when I need help – on pretty much anything or I just want to have people over for dinner.

Not being able to ride for a while doesn’t take all of that away. Even in a brace, I’ll be able to spend time with the big Elf. My trainer, who I think can see the panic edging in when I talk about not riding for 6-8 weeks, has already started making a plan to keep Elf in work and ready to go for one of the late summer shows. I have options. It’s not that bad. Everything will be fine.

but….

Even my husband has quietly expressed concern about my state of mind should the Orthopedist recommend significant time out of the saddle. My trainer has already offered one of her smoother, smaller moving horses to ride if I feel I have to ride.

Yeah, it’s that bad. I’ve found that even though my knee isn’t really slowing me down on a daily basis, there is a hum of underlying anxiety knowing that soon I’ll have that MRI. Soon after that, I’ll meet with the orthopedist. Part of me wants to know NOW what the timeline is. What do I have to do to get back to normal? And part of me wants to pretend it never happened and my knee being the size of a softball just isn’t that big of deal. Adulting. It’s just not fun.

Do you have something like that? That changes your life if you can’t do it.