"I Wish This Was a Stress Fracture"
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” I admitted to my physical therapist the other day, “but I wish this was a stress fracture. I’d give anything for this to be a stress fracture. Give me crutches, a boot, a walker, whatever.”
“At least then I’d know how to fix it.”
I’m no stranger to being sidelined from running. But I always knew why - I had an MRI to show me the small black cracks in my bone, the surrounding brilliant white edema. I had a predictable timeline of knowing when I could return to sport as long as I wasn’t a dumbass and followed protocol.
It was known. It was certain. And it was always a temporary time away, with a semi-certain date of return I could look forward to. When I would break down in tears trying to carry my dinner to the table while on crutches, I could remind myself that this was a temporary state: it sucks now, but in a few months, it would all be behind me. In a few months, I could restart my glorious return to run. Having something to look forward to kept me sane in those dark moments. The small steps forward gave me a sense of accomplishment.
I don’t have answers right now though. I don’t have a definitive source or cause. And as much as I try to find bright spots and (*gag*) silver linings in things, for all of the times I’ve been sidelined, this is by far the hardest.
Mostly because I’m in pain on a daily basis which sucks the joy out of activities of daily living. I’d just like to be able to go out to dinner with friends and sit at a table without being distracted by nerve pain. Or lay on the couch and watch a movie with my boyfriend without having to get up and change positions every ten minutes. I always thought I was pretty good at dealing with pain - turns out that when it infiltrates every moment of your waking (and sometimes sleeping) state, I’m not as adept as I thought I was. I’m actually pretty terrible at it.
Multiple MRIs and other tests1 have given me nothing to explain the cause (though, have helpfully ruled some things out). I have glimpses of getting better - a few glorious pain-free days - and then it painfully reverts. Doctors all have different theories which all sound fairly reasonable.
And the prescription is all the same: physical therapy, strengthening, rest, time.
Patience.
Like most other humans, my brain deals well in certainty. You tell me it’s going to be 6 months away from running - it sucks, I can deal with that. You show me a black line on an MRI scan and hand me a boot - it sucks, I can deal with that. But when I don’t even know what flares pain or what makes it better, I’m left wondering if it’s all my head - maybe I’m making this all up2.
Uncertainty does this to my brain: it leads me back to a painful and dark conclusion that I really don’t want to face: maybe my body has finally said ENOUGH after decades of mistreatment. Which leads me down an even darker road of “what ifs” and second guessing of life decisions.
If this is really the end of my road of all athletics at age 41, were all the decisions worth it? I look back over career decisions I made or the decision to not have children, both of which were affected, at least in some part, by my identity as an athlete and pursuit of athletics. Since I never really dedicated myself to finding meaning in career and family, what would that mean if the second half of my life is devoid of the thing that gave me that purpose?
“Find another purpose” they say.
Of course, my brain immediately wants to go to “another athletic purpose.” Unfortunately, my body isn’t allowing for any of those.3 It’s me and my sunrise and sunset walks. Which are nice and do give me joy, but damn - I miss pushing myself. And unfortunately I’ve struggled to find a non-athletic purpose that fills my soul. Though I can’t really say I’m trying that hard because as much as I say I’m letting go of athletics and running - I know that deep down, I’m holding on.
I’m grappling with that unwillingness to let go, which raises so many questions I don’t like facing: is my whole of an existence *that* dependent on whether or not I can be the athlete I want to? How much of this is tied up with my eating disorder and is this an indication I need to take a harder look at my recovery? Why am I so resistant to life as a “recreational” athlete or a “non-athlete”?
I don’t have answers to these questions, and I’m struggling mightily without a clear path forward for both my body and my mind. But the best I can do is to remind myself of impermanence. Maybe this too shall pass. Maybe it won’t. Maybe it’s just something I’m going to learn to live with, not to fix.
But one thing has become increasingly clear to me as the days and weeks and months tick on without much relief: I’m going to have to find a way to live and find as much joy in life as I can in the interim, while in the midst of pain. I miss my friends, I miss laughter, I miss feeling fully present. I don’t know how to get there just yet, but maybe that’s my purpose for now.
It’s a good thing I like a challenge.
It’s a great thing there’s glaringly wrong with my imaging (ho boy I was nervous for that lumbar MRI report!), but on the flip side, sometimes it’s easier to have a distinct thing to treat. The best theory right now is really SI joint dysfunction and a pelvis that’s not moving like it should be causing back spasms and a lot of nerve pain. Could be perimenopause hormonal changes, could be an inflammatory component, could be the body just saying “no”.
Chronic pain sufferers - I see you. Boy, do I see you.
It’s a sad day when even swimming leaves in you in back spasms. Never thought the pool would betray me…
Just gonna pray/hope for answers and then solutions for you. As a fellow chronic suffer we don’t wish others the misery we suffer, and any break-through gives us a collective hope for each of us.
You could end up going through doctors, even doctors who have helped before and that you respect because they only know what they know. You will research a myriad of possible issues and trial and error your own diagnosis.
Never give up hope of finding an answer and a balance. Your tenacity will be you strength in this, as will your ability to play the long game.
Give you body the rest ♥️♥️♥️ and I’m always hopeful for you.
Relate to a lot of what you’re saying. Know that the athletes out there hear you and know what you’re going through. You’re not alone.
That helps somewhat.
There are so many thoughts that go through your head with an uncertain timeline for injury and it’s tough.
Actually, my husband is a sports medicine doctor and he partnered with me to write a guest post for my newsletter last month about his 9-month recovery from a severe glute tear- 5 stages of the injured athlete.