Scar Tissue

Somewhere along Recovery Rd., just south of Bone-Healing Boulevard…

Flash back 1 and half hours ago:

I put on some knee high, navy blue socks I found in a closet. Put on my mom’s oversized tennis shoes. Put on a glittery tank, a fluffy pink jacket and some rose gold shades I ordered online from Amazon. Both my legs were wrapped; my left in my 3 lb brace and my right, just swollen with some ace bandage hastily wrapped around. 

Off to therapy I went, looking and feeling like a real bum. I stuffed some Cheetos in my right pocket and a vegetable hot pocket in my left. My left knee was sore, but I was excited to see my therapist and his technicians. Probably the best part of my week, therapy, because the people there understand what I’m going through.

I got in, and- to my surprise- my therapist said he was ‘working on me’ today. That means I get a lot of treats like ice, massage, stretching and just a lot of TLC on my knees. In general, I get maybe 5% of the TLC I actually need toward my knees. They need a lot, a lot of love.

So, I was on the table relaxing and my therapist was bending my knee slowly- a little further, a little longer. I was not eager to let him bend it. He chuckled, saying “She’s thinking ohhhh no, the pain’s gonna come, the pain’s gonna come- and then it doesn’t. And she’s like ‘phew’, good!”

“What, are you reading my mind, Felix?” I laughed. One of the other therapists came over to me and began talking to me, to try to distract me for a few minutes. I began to focus on explaining my knee injury and surgery. When all of a sudden…

Pop. And my knee was in agonizing pain, took my breath away. I cried out. I was back on the ground, on the cold icy concrete. Lying on the ground, knee pulled out of place. I was crying- completely caught off guard…

“Shhhh… it’s okay, it’s okay. Breathe, Sarah, breathe.”

“Sweetie, it’s okay, breathe, Breathe.”

I was still on the bed, the pain was only momentary and then it was gone. Felix was holding onto my leg, massaging it. “There we go. There we go. See, is it okay, is it okay? It’s okay now, isn’t it.” My knee was now bent, feeling a little warm, but generally, I felt relieved.

“That was the scar tissue. We just had to break that scar tissue. Now your knee is bent. Now it’s better.” My therapist was gently rubbing my knee, reassuring me that I had not, in fact, injured it again. That my surgery wasn’t all for nothing, not all my progress lost.

Tears streamed down my face. Scar tissue, when it breaks, can be painful and it can throw you off guard, to say the least.

In his warm, Mexican accent he said ,”You know, it’s like when you have a strip of bacon and then you just pull and pull on it until it… breaks. ” I imagined a piece of bacon strip attaching my bones together. “That’s like scar tissue, you just have to break it.”

I laughed a little through my tears. I was still a little shocked and a little scared, but my leg already felt better, a little more relaxed and it was warm. When the scar tissue broke, my brain released a lot of happy chemicals, and my body felt safer.

—

So it made me think: in life, we can accumulate a lot of scar tissue. Even if we’re being careful, sometimes things build up, little bits of scar tissue make themselves at home in our bodies.

Starting in our neck. We can become so strained, watching our backs- making sure we don’t get double-crossed. We’re on alert, to be better, to win, to make the move. So tissue starts to form from our skull to our shoulder blades. And our necks start to ache.

In our chest, we get wounded. Maybe a little, maybe a lot. Maybe someone wrongs us, hurts us in a terrible way. We don’t want to cry anymore, we don’t want to feel that pain in our chest, so we breathe more shallow, we don’t move, we don’t open up our heart as much. And scar tissue forms around our pericardium, the little sac that our hearts sit in.

Maybe we get tired of chasing shadows, ghosts and dark dreams we’ve made up for ourselves. Our knees and ankles get tired, our thighs feel heavy. Maybe we get tired of running from what scares us, the darkness we are so afraid of. And scar tissue wraps around our legs.

We might find ourselves weary, short of breath, in pain and numb. And we don’t even realize it until we choose to go forward. Take the risk- let it break .

And, sure, it’ll be scary, it might knock the wind out of us! But once the tissue breaks, you’ll be relieved, weight lifted. It has to be broken for you to go on, to be free. And becoming strong takes time. It takes smiles, tears, helping hands, friends, family and even some tough love- but healing can happen once we accept that we have to say goodbye to all of our

scar tissue. 

Waking Up

 

December 21st, 2016-

I woke up in the early hours of the morning; it was still dark and the sun hadn’t risen yet. Like most early mornings, my body was stiff and sore, my limbs and lips were cold and numb. My eye lids were heavy, and I had the faintest bit of nausea. My mother said, Come on! We’ve got to get going. 

So we drove to the hospital for my knee surgery. I was getting surgery on my left knee. My right knee throbbed from its recent injury. I went through the motions, hardly in a good mood because it was early and I was getting surgery. My nurse anesthetist gave me something for anxiety so that, when I struggle to remember being wheeled to the operating room, I can now remember nothing.

Fast forward through the boring details of the hospital– my good friend came along to help take care of me for the first few critical days. I was in and out of consciousness, I couldn’t remember or stay awake through any of the movies I watched.

Things and sensations began to fade around me. I became automatic and numb. Day to day, I went through moods of endless anger. Sometimes I cried unprompted and profusely. It was like there was a film over my eyes, so that everything seemed dream-like.

I went through a mental battle- a battle to stay awake and remember that my life was only suspended, not over.

Staying indoors at all hours caused me to become pale and very weak.

Only in recent days, as I’ve begun taking less and less medication, sensations have begun to return to me. These senses return which I did not realize I have lost.

Salivation upon teeth brushing, the tightening at my jaw. The sensation of wind cooling my skin. Control over my balance and ability to type. The shaking gone from my hands and fingertips. Taste of food. I hadn’t realized how shut off I had become.

It was only when I drank a regular Cola, that I realized I was able to enjoy its mere sweetness.

As my grandfather pushed me down the road in my wheelchair, it brought tears to my eyes, feeling the cool wind and seeing how beautiful the overcast sky was. I breathed deeply into the fresh air- the deeper I breathed, the more tears came to my eyes. So, I guess you could say…

I’m finally waking up.