on progress...

Progress is a bitch, man. In some ways I get it - there are certain measurable variables that get better with time. But in other ways, when you're living day after day after day - counting each one while waiting for the next, crossing your fingers that maybe in that window you'll have experienced some of this so-called "progress" - you start to forget what it all really means.

Here is something I have been able to measure: the first major PT goal was to be able to flex my foot back to 90 degrees - meaning my toes were vertically aligned with my heel, forming a 90 degree angle with my shin. To achieve this, we've focused on stretching, massaging, and range of motion (ROM) exercises. In 3 weeks, flexing as far back as I can, I've gone from -15 degrees, to -5 degrees, to 0 (aka neutral, or 90 degrees). This is a good thing, and is necessary to start weight-bearing. PROGRESS.

But then there's stuff like this:

The image on the left is what happens when I try to get on all-four's without the pillow. I have VERY LITTLE flexibility in the front of my ankle and top of my foot. The image on the right is when I try to do a regular downward dog (well I should say this is what WOULD happen if I tried to do a downward dog - that's a position I'm not even attempting right now, the photo is just to demonstrate). Only the pads of my toes can touch the mat, and I can't even fathom sinking any weight through my heel.

My ankle is LOCKED. And where there aren't numbers involved, it's terribly hard to gauge the progress. Sure I'm better on the crutches, I'm not bath-bound, I don't constantly feel like shit, I can do a bit of yoga - though it looks and feels nothing like actual yoga. I'm still in bed most of the day, I'm still taking a shower on a chair (yes, the backs of my thighs are completely unshavable), I'm still not really socializing (thanks again for all the buddies who are going out of their ways to come to me!), I still can't sleep on my right side...all of these things make it really difficult to get a shitload of joy from 5 degrees of range of motion.

So I muster up a little fake joy when I can, hoping at some point it will turn into real joy - like how fake laughter can become real if you exaggerate it enough. I'm constantly fighting my own brain, trying to push away the negative thoughts, trying to stop myself from attempting to define or understand progress. Maybe it will be easier to see when I start walking, or maybe that's still just the beginning...