Lost and found

Welcome back to my journey!

At this point of the journey, I am actually very happy to report that I've been walking without a moon boot or crutches for more than a week now. I'm not quite ready for a shimmython yet, but I'm getting there!

Today I want to talk about the not-so-nice parts of my journey. One of the biggest issues I experienced after my surgery, was a sense of loss. And I'm not just talking about the loss of speed and agility and not being able to dance anymore. I was probably prepared for that. Somethings I just couldn't prepare myself for. . .

Independence:

You won't understand this until you are in a POP for a few days. You can't bathe alone. You can't make yourself a cup of tea and carry it to the living room. Same goes for making lunch or dinner. Thankfully I'm blessed to still live with my parents, albeit ten meters from the main house in a little garden flat. I couldn't stay there as the flat is divided by two ridiculously uneven steps. Crutches and steps don't mix, if you've ever wondered. Another aspect that went out the window was getting from point A to B. I've been driving since 2003 and I've rarily needed to ask permission to go somewhere or ask someone to take me somewhere. In the weeks after my surgery, my best friend delivered her baby but the problem is that they live outside of town on a farm that involves a horrible dirt road that scares even me. The result? I saw the little bundle on the day after her birth for a few minutes and only because I managed to bum a ride from a mutual friend. I haven't been able to get out there since then since Mom's back isn't up to the shaky road either. Not being able to go where you want to when you want to is really frustrating. That and not being able to control the music we listen to on the drive to work, since the driver picks the music and shotgun shuts her cake hole.

Supernatural wisdom

Creativity:

Before I went to the operation, I had set out clear goals with regards to my writing and costume designing. Guess what? Nothing happened. I managed to waste five weeks of sick leave on Pinterest, curating fabulous inspiration boards for my WIPs, but barely wrote a word. I was (and still am) terribly constipated when it comes to putting my ideas into words. I am slowly but surely fighting my way back to the level of creaivity that I had last year this time. Last year I was in the final hours before publishing my debut novel and it's heartbreaking to confess that I haven't been able to write anything since then.

Another intention I had was to work my way through the Datura workshops that focussed on arms and upper body isolations. I was just unable to get myself to commit. Apart from the logistics being a nightmare, I fell into a really unpleasant depression after one try. It wasn't going to work. It also didn't help that I missed my dance sisters terribly and bummed another ride from Diana to go visit them. What a giant mistake. Watching them work through new arm patterns and preparing for World Belly Dance Day was physically causing me pain. After getting home that night, I vowed never to do that to myself again.

Don't do it to yourself.

Physical strength:

The one thing that bugged me the most was the loss of physicality. Did you know that you can lose 5-10% of your muscle mass in a three week period due to inactivity? I was in a POP and a moon boot for three months. That's 12 weeks. Since I was forced to lie down for 95% of my day during the first two weeks post-op, I had to do exercises that would maintain muscle mass in my thighs and glutes. What they don't tell you is that no matter how much you exercise, one day you're going to look down at your leg and think "What the heck happened to my thigh?" I was not in the best shape to start off with, but the difference between my "good" leg and my "bad" leg became more apparent as time wore on.The rehabilitation process is long and difficult. Although I'm walking at the moment without much of a limp, my balance is shot to hell. The foot doesn't allow me to stand on tip-toes yet. And walking long distance? Ha! Hamstrings, glutes, shins . . . the whole gamut of them protest violently. 

The way forward:
Thanks to the hard work and motivation provided by my physiotherapist Paulien - who is 100% aware of my desire to return to dancing as soon as possible and who thankfully supports it - I'm taking baby steps. Literally. You can't run before you can crawl and all that suddenly makes sense. So now I'm brushing my teeth while balancing on the bad leg. I'm doing calf raises while cooking dinner. I've got a Theraband and I just need to find a table leg sturdy enough to tie it to in order to condition the whole leg again.And I'm in negotiations with Jacqui to start a special re-conditioning class as soon as the dust has settled in my personal life, which should be after next week. That should at least ensure that I'm working on the correct muscles needed for a smooth transition back into oriental dance.

Well, maybe not a cute dress . . . but a coin belt will do!

And tomorrow morning when I drive myself to work, my radio will be blaring my favourite tunes. Just because I can. 

Until next time.

XxX
Marina

129 Days

Dear Readers

It's been an absolute lifetime since I've posted, but recently I've felt compelled to share something with you all. 

As of today, it has been 129 days since I've last danced. 

At our Rhythm Divine Hafla 2016

Yes, you're reading a blog on the topic of oriental dance and yes, I am a dancer. But something has been keeping me from my favourite hobby/escape/life line. I was the proud owner of a very terrible set of feet since birth. The kind of feet that made sure I never had any ballerina aspirations. The kind that made finding shoes a nightmare. The kind that eventually required surgical intervention to ease the pain of basic walking. When I was in high school, I had surgery to both feet to fix what is known in lay-man's terms as "flat feet." That should have been the end of the story as the surgery should have made buying shoes and walking easier. 

Except it didn't. At least not for the left foot. 

The right foot's surgery was a smashing success. The bridge of the foot was lifted with the use of screws that were removed a few months after surgery and the effects remained. The left foot . . . well, let's just say the screws came loose too early and so did the rest of the foot.

Five years ago I realised a life-long dream of taking dance lessons with our amazing teacher Jacqui. I told her from the start that my left foot was always going to be an issue and we devised a plan to work around it. Dancing was always difficult with a foot that would be swollen by the time I got home. I tried dancing with shoes and dancing without shoes, but nothing made it better. It didn't matter because I was dancing and I loved it. 

The BEFORE - note the deformity of the bones of the big toe

As the years went on, my left foot continued to be a problem, often seizing up in the middle of class. My day job requires me to spend a lot of hours on my feet and eventually, things just became unbearable. I asked my GP for a referral to a new orthopaedic surgeon in town, Dr. Letsie Ledimo, as I had heard good feedback from him. Armed with new X-rays, I arrived at his office. He examined me and sent me for further X-rays and a few minutes later, we examined them at the light box. Dr. Ledimo was honest with me when he said he didn't have the guts required to fix the problem with my foot. He immediately referred me to a specialist in Pretoria, Dr. Pauline Greyling who had been his mentor at university. He gave me an option to obtain a second opinion from another local orthopaedic surgeon, but when I asked what he would do if it was his foot, his answer was that he wouldn't let anyone else go near it. 

From the start I knew that I was letting myself in for a long process. The joints of my calcaneus, the bone that form your heel, had moved out of position in the seventeen years since the first surgery and had started chafing bone against bone. My Achilles tendon had also moved out of position. There was speculation that my big toe would also have to be broken in order to be set in the correct position. Dr. Greyling was optimistic about the results, but said that I would spend two weeks in a backslab, then a further four weeks in a circular POP before spending another six weeks in a moonboot. That's three months of inactivity. Three months of little to no weight bearing on the operated foot. 

It would also mean that dancing was ruled out for a minimum of six to eight months post op. 

And that's how I ended up here.

The AFTER - with the addition of two in-dwelling screws

129 days without dancing. 

Tomorrow, Wednesday 12 April, marks the official twelve weeks post-op date. However, due to all the public holidays we're enjoying in South Africa, I'll only be able to see Dr. Greyling next week. On week 13 - my favourite number in the whole world. I'm hoping it will bring me luck. 

So, why did I just share intimate details about my foot's history with you? I'm not looking for pity. I'm looking for someone to keep me accountable through the next couple of months. I'm looking for someone to share the highlights with and someone to drag through the low points. 

More than that, I'm hoping to be a source of inspiration for someone else out there who is struggling to stay positive and to stay committed to his/her dancing when it seems Fate is against you. Genetics and bad luck shot me in the foot, but I'm not going to allow this to be the end of it. I'm still young, I've got a lot of dancing years ahead of me. I hope to be looking back on this one day in the future and think back fondly of the trial I went through. And I hope that you will fight through your own battle along with me. 

After all, a day without dancing is a day wasted.

Sending you all shimmy greetings,

Marina