Question the Experts

Four or five years ago I ran a half-marathon.  It was my second attempt and my friend and I hadn't trained all that much.  The first time I ran one I had trained hard, but had not been able to run the whole thing.  So the second time around I surprised myself by running (jogging slowly) the whole thing.  My friend and I celebrated that it had hurt so much but that we had pushed through it.  And when I tried to run again just a few short weeks later, I learned that I had really hurt my knee.  I hadn't run very far when I got shooting pain next to my knee.  It hurt to run, it hurt to jog, it hurt to walk.  So I stopped and went home.  I tried again later.  I got the same pain in my knee.  Rest wasn't helping, it wasn't getting better.  And it hurt really bad.
Hawaii has great health insurance, so I went to a doctor.  I googled an orthopedic surgeon in Kailua.  I didn't do any research on who she was, I just went.  It was the usual sit around in the waiting room until the doctor can see you 15 minutes late, then sit in the waiting room for 15 minutes by yourself deal.  I guess we are all pretty used to this, unfortunately.  Then I got to see the Doctor.  She asked me a lot of questions and did some manual examinations on my legs.  She manipulated the knee and finally instructed me to go with someone she was going to send for to get some x-rays done to see what was going on in there.  Before setting off to fetch her assistant she gave me a talk about different kinds of knee pains.  She talked a lot about how many people are not meant to run, especially if something was a little different in one leg than the other (one of my legs is a hare shorter than the other).  She then also went on to talk about how often she will do x-rays on elderly gentlemen and she will find a form of cancer that is causing the pain, often in the hips.  Right after she mentioned cancer, she left the room.  And I sat there for 15 minutes thinking about cancer and how I will never run again.  I went to take the x-rays and she determined that I would need to get an MRI on my knee to figure out what was going on since she couldn't see anything in the films.  Then she gave me another talk about how I should never run again (I don't remember exactly what she said, but this was the basic gist).  Then she sent me off to the hospital to get an MRI done.
I followed her instructions like a good girl, got the MRI done and then went home in a panicky depression.  I would never run again.  There's something wrong with my body.  I've done some real damage.  I never went to pick up the results of the MRI.  I never scheduled a follow-up appointment with the lovely Doctor.  And I stopped running totally for about a year.
It's not that I didn't want to look at the MRI because there might be something I wouldn't like in the results.  I'm not one to go into that kind of denial.  If there's something wrong I generally want to know what I can do to fix it or make it better.  It was more that there was something about the way the doctor treated me.  Something about the way she brought up cancer and left me alone.  Something about how she sucked all hope out of my recovery.  Looking back I realize that it was the first time that a doctor told me something and I didn't just blindly accept it.  Doctor's words were like the word of God.  If a doctor told me something I believed it.  But I didn't accept her message and it took me a really long time to figure that out.  I had to mourn the death of my implicit trust in all medical professionals.  I began to consider that doctors are humans. And that although they had gone to school for a very long time and learned a considerable amount about the human body and their specialties, they are not infallible.
I began to research the kind of pain I had.  I looked specifically at runner's blogs and discovered that the kind of pain I have is pretty common.  It is caused by tight, unstretched muscles, a lack of cross-training and strengthening other muscles and a tight IT band.  Turns out there's things you can do to help with the pain and a foam roller does a great job of stretching your IT band.  I tested out what I had learned.  I started kickboxing which strengthened all my muscles, not just my running muscles.  I started stretching and icing.  I worked on my running technique in short bursts.  If it started to hurt at all, I stopped what I was doing.  And you know what?  It worked.  I will not be running any marathons or half-marathons any time soon, and I actually have no motivation to do so.  But I have been able to compete in 3-5 mile trail races with obstacle courses.  I can run when it is involved in a crossfit workout.  I have regained all of my functional running skills and have gotten myself to a point where there is little to no pain involved.
The moral of the story is this: go to the doctor, listen to the doctor, question the doctor, do your own research.  If your heart and intuition are telling you that the doctor is not spending enough time with you, or the doctor's words are not sitting right with you, You Might Be Right.  Do not fear a second opinion.  Do not let doctors bully you when you go into their kingdoms armed with your own knowledge, intuition and research.  Do not let the doctor make you feel stupid or hopeless.  And for the most part this means that you will follow their prescription..  They very often know what they are talking about.  I almost always take the medicine they prescribe.  I can think of only one other time that I didn't and it involved medication that would have caused side effects worse than the problem they were trying to fix.
So question the experts.  This goes not just for doctors, but government officials, researchers, spiritual and religious leaders, your boss, your mother, your best friend.  Ask for help, listen to what they say, and then follow your intuition.

Ain't No Stoppin Me Now!

Enjoy your Vacation!

This week I let myself get too busy and I slacked off on my blog. Normally Wednesday is my blog day, but I was preparing all week to fly to Key West for my sister-in-law's wedding.  I made sure to clean the kitchen, the bathrooms and the living room so my friend, who is house and dog-sitting wouldn't be completely disgusted with me.  I wish I could say I always keep my house guest ready, but the truth is that I avoid cleaning like the plague. I used to be embarrassed about this, but I've since come to terms with the fact that I have other redeeming qualities and I will never Martha Stewart be. She's very uptight anyway. We made sure to exercise the dogs, bathe them and get their supplies together. We had to be sure that the fish tank routine was made easy to follow. 

For the past few months I've also been studying a bit here and there for my licensure test. I feel pretty good about it so far, but it is taking up a large chunk of my time. Because of the timing of this wedding vacation, I also missed the last week of school, where I work. This meant finishing up as much paperwork as I possibly could, doing all of the progress reports for my students and saying my goodbyes all this last week. It's always so sad, you just never know which kids will be there in the fall. So I gave hugs, and advice, and homework. 

I have been allowing the stress to get to me. My nutrition has not been the best, not horrible, but not great. I've been having a hard time staying in the moment. My crossfit workouts help, they keep me active and happy. But, I allowed the cleaning time and appointments get in the way and I missed several of my regular classes. 

Isn't it funny how going on vacation, the thing that we wait and wait for can be so much stress? It makes me laugh, looking back, how much I let it get to me. On previous vacations I have allowed that stress to leak into the vacation itself. Not this time. Even last night/today on the longest, most uncomfortable flits I ever remember, I have been having a good time with my husband. We've both been in good spirits. I started meditating on the second flight, which relaxed me so much I fell asleep before we took off. That was a blessing since I can rarely sleep on a flight. In fact, I slept on the first and second flights. On the third flight Nathan and I played this jewel matching game over and over and over again. It was fun! 

Upon landing here in Tampa, it turns out, of course, that our flight to Key West is delayed by an hour and a half. Either way, we spent the entire Monday in a plane and I have eaten insane amounts of banana chips, a nut mix and a personal size pizza. I feel gross. But I'm on vacation!  My plan is to finish this quick blog, and go find some fun! Not sure what that looks like, probably going to wander around the airport a bit, maybe meditate, find a good spot to watch the sunset. Can't wait to stick my feet in the Atlantic Ocean. Was just wading in the pacific less than 24 hours ago. 

Is Today an Okay Day to Die?

I know some of you may be thinking that I'm being a bit doom and gloom, or depressed, or you might be worried that I am going to do something rash, judging by the title.  However, it is totally the opposite.  Let me explain.

The other day I was on my way to a local coffee shop to study for my upcoming test.  On my way to the door, a disheviled man came out of the door and grabbed a backpack that had been sitting outside on the sidewalk.  I walked into the coffee shop and he walked away.  When I got to the counter inside, one of the ladies who had been sitting at a table outside the shop came in to tell the man at the counter that the bag had been claimed.  Apparently, the group had been concerned about the bag lying unattended and had reported it to the store.  With the recent bombings at the Boston Marathon, there have been several cases in Hawaii of stores and building being shut down as the police investigate unattended bags left lying around.  The guys at the counter laughed about it probably being a drug deal and everyone went on their way.  The guy is a bit of a regular, so no one was that concerned.  I got my latte and cracked open the books and forgot about it.

About an hour later, the same man came back inside, carrying two bags, including the one that had been earlier lying around unattended.  He went upstairs, and came back down without his bag.  He left the store.  Hmm.  Now, none of the group of ladies from the previous group was there.  The guy at the register didn't notice the guy come in.  I was the only one noticing this guy and of course, my mind started to go there.  Did this guy just leave some kind of explosive device upstairs?  I know that he's one of the regulars of Kailua, possibly homeless and on drugs, definitely wanders the street all of the time, I've seen him before.  Part of me knew that this was no big deal and yet a part of my mind started to wind up.  Images of explosions and screaming and running flashed really quickly through my brain.  I could feel a chill go through my body and I tensed up.  Even though I know it's not a terrorist attack, my brain is starting to take over and the anxiety is starting to set in.  This is where the question above came in handy.

This year I have been practicing daily how to be present in the moment.  At random intervals, especially when I am starting to get stressed out, I take a moment to really look around me and see what is reality.  What is going on, right now.  The practice brings an awesome sense of peace.  In that moment, in the coffee shop, I stopped thinking about explosions and looked around.  I was in a cute cafe with lots of studious people on their computers.  There was good music playing and my friend, Keysa, was sitting at the table with me, reading her own book.  It was peaceful and serene and pleasant.  And I thought to myself, since really we can die at any moment, for multitudes of reasons, would this be an okay way to die?  I was in a great place with a friend.  I was doing something enjoyable, preparing for a test that will help me further my career.  Everything was totally okay in that moment.  So, yes, it would have been an okay time and place to die.  The thought brought me a great deal of peace.  The tension in my body started to melt away.  I had another sip of coffee, and smiled at Keysa.  The man came back in the front door, went upstairs and grabbed his bag, ordered a cup of coffee, and grabbed a seat at a table.

The same man got up to grab a napkin near our table a few minutes later and we couldn't help but overhear as he repeated to himself, "I am a cat, I am a cat, I am a cat."  The man was totally harmless, not quite in his right mind, but no terrorist.  And I am so grateful that I didn't waste any more of my precious time on this earth spinning my mind and worrying that I was going to blow up.  It would have been a waste.  Even if there was a bomb in his bag that day, I would have wasted my last moments with fear.  I've always thought it would be so much better to go with a contented smile on my face.

What are your thoughts?  Is today an okay day to die?