Phase I, Rest and Heal

I had my first post-op visit Tuesday which was mainly a wound-check.  The good news is, I am healing as expected.  The bad news is, I am healing as expected.  Though I have researched post-op rehab protocols for hamstring avulsion online, I asked to get Dr. Greis' protocol printed out to see if he had the same guidelines.  Yup.  Pretty much.  The only big difference is that Dr. Greis did not put me in a bulky brace for which I am undoubtedly grateful!
     Phase I, weeks 0-6. Rest and heal.  Ice incision.  Toe-touch weight bearing with crutches.  No flexing or stretching hamstring.  No formal PT until 8-10 weeks post-op.  As I write, I am only 10 days out.
     The irony with injuries like these is that they happen to relatively "active people" and I am no exception.  If something needs to be done, I do it.  But I can't right now and absolutely shouldn't be trying to!  It is a huge challenge overcoming that nag in my brain telling me "If you throw one crutch down the stairs, use one crutch on the left and hold onto the wall on the right, you could probably hobble downstairs and throw in a load of laundry!" That would be crazy!
     The urge to ignore "rest and heal" is also fueled by guilt over the burden this shift of responsibility has placed on my family. On Tuesday evening when my husband Barry got home from work, he looked at the dishes in the sink and remarked "Would it be too much to ask if you could just do the dishes?"  Both girls had been at grandma's all day and were not home yet.  The dishes were from breakfast and the sandwich I made for lunch.  Trying to remove food from the refrigerator to make a sandwich and then put it away again is really a simple task...that is, if you don't have both hands on crutches trying to keep the weight off a weak leg. I did manage to put the sandwich fixings away which was a real accomplishment.
     Standing at the sink for any length of time on one leg with armpits resting on crutches is again challenging and though I can manage hobbling items to the top rack of the dishwasher, the bottom rack requires a sophisticated balancing act.  To avoid active flexing or stretching my left hamstring, I must position the right leg in a deep 1 legged squat (left leg loosely dangling behind me) with the left hand on a crutch reaching down and out with my right hand to place a dish between the slats.  I know this because despite my precautions to "rest and heal", I have tried it.  Once. And it sucked.  I nearly fell over.  Never again.
     So to Barry's request for me to do the dishes, I replied "Yes, I'm sorry, but is too much to ask right now.  It is extremely hard for me."  A few minutes later he huffed out the house and announced that he was going on a drive.
     "Where?" I asked
     "I don't know."  He said.
And then I felt guilty. I should be trying harder, I thought. And remember that thing I said at the beginning of this post about how crazy it would be for me to try to hobble downstairs to throw in a load of laundry? I did that crazy thing.  And VERY fortunately, I did not fall, stub my toe, or tweak my hamstring. But every time I ignore my instructions to "rest and heal", I put myself at great risk for prolonging my recovery and perhaps permanently sabotaging the return to prior function.
     Those first few days post-op when I was in a lot of pain, my limitations were abundantly clear.  Barry and Michelle were incredible those days, commanding me to rest, setting the alarm every four hours at night so that I would keep my pain control steady. I am sure as my pain improved over the first week, I began to look less like a recovering post-op patient and more like a wife/mother just lying on the couch all day. Despite the looks of it on the outside, there is some remarkable healing going in there! A complex matrix of tissue is growing and gluing my tendon back to the bone.  Only I can protect that.
     So in the spirit of committing myself to "rest and heal", I have been more forthright about what I can and cannot do.  I have also enlisted Michelle's help with a lot of simple things. One night when she grumbled and stormed off because I asked her to help me put my pajama bottoms on, I put it to her like this: "I am asking your help because I am physically unable to do it myself.  I can't do this without you.  If I don't ask for help and hurt myself, it will be even longer before I can run and play with you."  I think she got it.  The next night when she retrieved something from a low cabinet for me I said "Thank you so much Michelle!  What would I do without your help?"  Very proud of her important role in project "fix mommy", she replied "Oh, you would probably die."