My hips don't lie

 Hey friends!

It's been awhile (Did you just hear 2008 hit by Staind? I'm currently in my "vintage" music era. You've been warned). 

I've been a bit quiet and holding out/hiding out as I process some news. 

Last we spoke, I was explaining that I did something weird to my back that prevented my body from reaching vertical status. That back injury, my friends, was what they refer to in the literary world as "foreshadowing." 

The back pain turned into groin pain, and eventually into hip pain. I went to my trusted Physiotherapist and asked him to check things out. During the assessment, we both heard my hip click and then catch. It yelled out in pain, the hip clicked again and released. My heart sank. I know what catching and locking means. It's all related to my shitty cartilage. My physio was sympathetic but directed me to pursue an MRI as soon as possible and provided me with strengthening exercises and stretches to help ease the pain. 

For the next few weeks, I kept all of this information inside - my little secret. I told Ev but argued that I wouldn't worry anyone else until I got MRI results. That, in retrospect, was a bad idea. 

I suffered a severe IBS flare up, which, for me, is always linked to stress. My stomach protested anytime I put food into it, and I spent a few sleepless nights, either tossing and turning in bed or in the bathroom wishing I hadn't consumed food that day. It was the pits. 

"I am in misery. There ain't nobody that can comfort me" - Maroon 5

My psychologist questioned why I was keeping this information about my health a secret, and all that I could think of was that I felt bad about disappointing people. The past summer was one of the best summers for me, physically. My posse noticed, commenting, "It's so good to see you back!" It felt like a victory for all of us, given the fact that so many have supported me through the ups and downs of the past 12 years. I pictured the faces of my loved ones as I told them the cartilage disease was back, and all I could see was disappointment...and fatigue. Everyone is tired of hearing about my cartilage. I felt like I had let everyone down. 

Once I talked this through with my psych, I realized that I needed to externalize all these thoughts that were driving me crazy. I typically do that through this blog, which is so cathartic for me, but I wasn't ready to discuss it on a public forum yet. So, I started with my mom. My fabulous mom, my biggest cheerleader, who has been my right-hand woman through all my surgeries listened quietly as I shared my news. Obviously, she felt bad/sad for me, and we both lamented how unfair all of this was...but then we talked about making a plan, selecting a good surgeon, and moving forward. I felt so much better after unloading this information. I'm sure it added to my mom's stress that day, but I know my mom just wants to be there and help me through this. Thank you, mom, for taking some of that off my chest...or my bowel or whatever. 

I found myself back in the MRI tube, pleasantly and mildly sedated on Ativan (no cativan this time, friends!) The familiar sound of the clicking, honking, and banging of the MRI machine jived nicely with the song that repeated in my head,

 "Here I go again on my own. Goin' down the only road I've ever known." - Whitesnake

I held out a tiny bit of hope that the issue could be a very fixable labral tear, but I was prepared for the results that appeared in my inbox a few days later...I had multiple grade 4 articular cartilage defects in the femoral head of my hip. A contralateral view indicated the other hip was also in bad shape. Ugh. 

I have the benefit this time around of private insurance. Although this means I have a co-pay, in addition to insanely high annual fees, I "get to" select my own doctors. I knew that I needed someone who would listen, consider my extensive medical history, and forgo the sexy cartilage replacement surgeries that were not previously effective in treating my knees. I had seen Dr. Alwin for a knee consult post knee replacement and really liked his quiet confident demeanor, knew he was top in his field for joint replacements, and decided to pursue him. 

I waited 5 weeks for the consult, and during those 5 weeks, I watched and felt my body deteriorate before my eyes. It SUCKED. Instead of disappointing everyone around me, I just felt incredibly disappointed in myself. How did I go from e-foiling like a champ just a few weeks ago to barely being able to get myself to a standing position? I finally experienced a taste of freedom, and it was being taken away from me...again. I knew that self-compassion was what I needed, but every time that I looked at myself in the mirror, all that I saw was a loser with a defective body. How do you not view yourself as "defective" when the word "defect" is found in each and every MRI report you've ever read about your body? Isn't it crazy how fast you can turn on yourself? During this time, Ev was in Asheville, navigating a business during one of the worst natural disasters in history. Wifi was sporadic, so we weren't able to communicate much. I felt really bad for what he was dealing with, terrible for the people who lost loved ones and homes, and I felt guilty for feeling sorry for myself and my stupid hip. Oddly, I never really sat down and grieved this new plot twist in my life. Instead, I began projecting my sadness onto other random things. One day as I was driving, I ugly cried for at least 15-minutes over a cow that had been left standing in a flooded pasture. That poor poor cow. (I also would like to apologize to the lady who witnessed me bawling in the Foster's parking lot). Ya...they weren't the best of times, that's for sure. 

"I tried so hard and got so far...in the end it doesn't even matter." - Linkin Park

I finally met with Dr. Alwin on Friday. (Aside: I'm fully aware that a 5-week wait is incredibly swift compared to my fellow Canadians who wait months for a consult witd h a specialist. Don't come at me, public health care recipients!) He was calm and confident, just as I remembered him. He listened intently to my 12-year history, raising his eyebrows a few times in surprise ("You had Serotonin Syndrome??" I loooove impressing doctors with my medical anomalies), and then proceeded to show me the images of my shitty hip, as well as her not-as-shitty partner. After x-rays and discussion, we quickly agreed that a total hip replacement was the only option. He showed me his fancy dual mobility implant, along with the porous cap that they 3D print to ensure the bone grows into the implant. He explained his anterior entry approach (which I had read is the most current with the fastest recovery data), and we selected a date of Dec. 16. Merry Christmas to me. I gently requested a bilateral hip replacement - why not get them both done at once? Maybe slot the ankles in for Valentine's Day? Let's really mess with the TSA security screen.  But he suggested taking one at a time, and suspects that the other hip may hold on for a bit longer once the evil hip is removed.

 "Hold on for one more day." - Wilson Phillips. 

So... I have a plan. I'm currently struggling with pain relief. I'm opting for massages, chiropractic care, physio, movement, nostalgic music/shows, and a glass of wine here and there, as opposed to the opioids that are effective, but turn me into a numb blob. I can do this. It's only a month away. I am so so so thankful that I switched jobs when I did. I'm grateful that Evan is such a smart cookie, growing his businesses to a place where we don't need to rely on my income to support our lifestyle. My new schedule allows for enough down-time in between clients and long weekends to recover. My new employers/teammates have been nothing but kind and understanding and are willing to help me through this with little or no disruption to my clients. What a relief. This is not my fault. It's taken over a decade for me to fully realize this. 

Finally, I'm pursuing a referral to a Geneticist. I want to learn more about the composition of my cartilage, and why this is happening to me. Now that it's moved from my knees to my hips, which is extremely rare (the story of my life), I'm experiencing increased fear about my future and prognosis. I think more information is needed. 

 Another surgery (#16), another joint - surely, I've been dealt these cards for a reason. But seriously, how many more life lessons do I need to absorb? I am resilient. I am strong. I will get through this, just as I have in the past. Also...I'm going to Taylor Swift's final concert of the Eras Tour in Vancouver with my sister and Canadian work wife a week before my surgery. I can only fathom how incredible this concert is going to be! What an amazing send-off for my shitty unwell hip (Practicing self-compassion). 

"Cause I'm a real tough kid, I can handle my shit. They said babe you gotta fake it 'til you make it, and I did." - TayTay

Cute pose? or...just trying to hold my body together?

Insert inspirational quote about stormy skies making best sunsets.

The "go for it" summer

 Hey Friends,

Can you believe that summer is almost over? It definitely FEELS like the middle of summer here in Cayman, where the humidity index is still in the 90's and there's a thunderstorm at least five times a day!

We returned back to Cayman after 2 months at Candle Lake, Saskatchewan. For the first time in about 13 years, I experienced a "go for it" summer. 

We are taught that pain is an indication to stop an activity. If something really hurts, you probably shouldn't do it, as it might be causing further damage. When I was diagnosed with my cartilage disease about 13 years ago, I was given a list of activities/movements that I needed to avoid in order to slow the process of the disease. I was told no torque movements like swinging a golf club, racquet, or paddle. I was told no high impact activities like jumping or running. I was told to limit the number of steps I was taking in a day. I was told to stop when I felt pain, elevate and ice. These restrictions and warnings were forefront in my brain for the past 13 years. Although my disease progressed and I endured surgery after surgery, I didn't want to be the one responsible for making things worse. 

Now that I have two prosthetic knees, things have changed. 

My right knee continues to be "off." We know that it's larger than my left, and the size is limiting my extension and causing pain. My super awesome team of therapists and doctors have assured me that I can't make it worse. This is just how it is. I was told, for the very first time in 13 years, to "go for it" this summer. My physiotherapist, who worked through my kinesiophobia (fear of movement) with me, suggested that I pick and choose what I'm willing to experience pain for. For example, I hate running - so no sense in causing pain doing something that I don't like. On the other hand, he suggested I might sacrifice some pain to play pickleball, a sport that I've been longing to get back into. 

So that's what I did. I went for it!

I played pickleball with Kayla and her friends. Initially, I thought that I was pretty awesome because Kayla and I were winning all of our matches, but once I played singles and began losing horribly, I realized that Kayla was the reason that we were winning all of our doubles matches. Haha! She's got really long limbs!

I surfed as much as I could. I really enjoyed some morning surfs with my besties, the Hunters. And I loved witnessing my little bud, Harper (age 6), learn how to surf independently, singing our favorite song, "The Sign" the entire time (90's pop. A girl after my own heart!)

I two-stepped, I polka-d, I "Kirstie danced" (tipsy happy jumping with a lot of upper arm action) the night away at Farmfest with my super fun aunts, uncles, and cousins. 

I fully participated in shark week festivities this year, completing the incredible shark cage relay, winning the Can Jam cup with Linds, and dancing (jumping?) the night away on the back of Rick's boat with some of my favorite people in this world! ("To the window - to the wall!") ;) 

I went on long walks, long bike rides, and long stand-up paddles through forests and creeks. 

I tried new workouts that incorporated some jumping and lunging (2 things I was told NEVER to do previously). 

I even E-foiled for the first time! Our friend, Matt, brought over his E-foils and I was able to quickly get up and even fly a little, watching fish swim just below the surface. I loved it so much that I demo'd a board as soon as we returned to Cayman!

Yes, I hurt after each of these activities. The pain now radiates into my hip because my entire right side of my body is "off" with this ill-fitting prosthetic knee. But you know what? It was totally worth it. It felt good. I don't feel like I "lost" 13 years of my life, but man, parts of it were definitely on hold. My 30's, when most people still feel limber and agile, were a bit of a mess for me. I learned some life lessons that have shaped who I am today, but let's be honest, I missed out. I intend to make up for lost time. 

You know what was even better than having a "go for it" summer? Sharing it with my people. 

One of my greatest fears about moving to Cayman 10 years ago was losing these strong and meaningful connections with friends and family back in Canada. There's something so fulfilling about returning after a year away and picking right back up where you left off with the people you love. Whether it was serious in-depth conversations about family and work, silly, laughter-filled chats about diary entries from 2001, or just sitting quietly with the people you love and watching the geese float by, every interaction was gratifying. It was hard to say goodbye to everyone, but I know we'll pick up again next summer (or...come and visit! Anytime!)

Paw patrol killed it for the second year in a row. They traveled like pros and thoroughly enjoyed their summer at the lake. Stevie spent hours on the deck "hunting" birds and insects (and there were a LOT of insects this summer, unfortunately). Dilbert loved his long morning walks and the fresh air. Our return to island was a bit messy with canceled West Jet flights and rerouting that added about 8 hours to our trip, but the pets were troopers and hung in there for a long journey! 

We're back into our island routine and I have begun a new and exciting part-time temporary job in addition to my work with Achieve Cayman. I am covering a maternity leave for a speech-language pathologist with HSA (public health). I'm seeing a diverse group of patients (mostly adult) with a variety of diagnoses such as voice disorders, stroke, dementia, brain tumors, etc. I've only completed my first few weeks, but I'm absolutely loving it! My brain kicked into high gear, attempting to remember the neuro anatomy and treatment plans for each diagnosis. It was a bit scary, super challenging, and felt very rewarding. I feel like I'm going to be a very well-rounded clinician through this experience. I'm excited to continue this position a few days a week until December. 

There's the update! I hope everyone transitions nicely into sweater weather and pumpkin spiced everything. 

Cheers!

Addendum:

Ironically, my "go for it summer" ended abruptly this week with an injury. I know what you're saying, "It was the pickleball! It's the damn pickleball." No, no, it wasn't the pickleball that got me. I literally hurt myself standing up. Wednesday, after a full day of patients (and too much sitting), I went to stand up to leave at the end of the day and my body could not reach vertical status. Pain seared in my lower back/hip, and I awkwardly tried to play it cool in front of my new (and much younger colleagues). As everyone said their farewells for the day, I didn't want to alarm my new co-workers, so I pretended to search my purse for my keys to remain in the hunched over position that I was only capable of achieving. So, you know, I searched for my keys as I said goodbye to the other therapists, searched for my keys as I painfully descended the stairs, and searched for my keys as I bid the security guard a good night. I drove home hugging my steering wheel, with my face barely over the windshield, hoping to remain anonymous. Thankfully, I have a great chiro who was able to put my SI joint back into alignment. I will start again with Physio this week. Apparently, I'm at the age and fitness level where my joints just randomly fall out of place whilst performing regular human functions like standing. Awesome. I'm definitely not 100% yet (maybe 25%), and the only thing I'm "going for" is gentle pool stretching. I'm sure there's a lesson here...like go for it, but maybe like go for it-ish? I'm not sure but will keep you updated. 

Night terrors and haunted lakes - relaxation at its finest!

 Hey friends,

It's been a busy few months since we last chatted!

I'm slowly transitioning into my new role with Achieve Cayman. I've been seeing students in private schools and homes. Everyone has been very supportive, and it's been a positive experience thus far. I'm looking forward to really getting into it and acquiring more adult patients when I return to Cayman after our summer in Canada.

More notably, however, are the changes within me over the past few months. As you know, I was coming to terms with the fact that my right knee replacement is larger than desired and will likely continue to cause pain, given that I am unable to get full extension. I was like, "Ok fine. This is what it is. I'm ready to move on." My body, on the other hand, wasn't having that and I started experiencing some interesting things.

For those of you who know me well, know that I dream very vividly, and enjoy discussing the meaning behind my dreams. As a child I experienced recurring "night terrors," where I awoke crying/screaming, and difficult to soothe. A few months ago, these "night terrors" reappeared 40 years later with a very specific theme. I began dreaming about things that I witnessed during the surgeries for which I was conscious. 

My first 6 knee surgeries were performed in the OR with a spinal. I was alert, but unable to feel a thing. This method was recommended and preferred by me due to the nausea I always experience post anesthetic. In fact, during the "conscious" surgeries, I was very calm, curious, and thought it was quite interesting to see my knees via the interoperative cameras. I felt like an active participant in my surgeries. 

Unfortunately, now that it's all over and I'm ready to move forward, my brain has begun replaying those memories to me, in a horrifying manner during the night. I see the cartilage literally falling off my bone as the surgeon probed it with his surgical tools and I feel the pressure and hear the hammering, chiseling, and noises in the OR that, frankly, didn't bother me at all in real time. I awaken screaming, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, often in the middle of freakin' panic attack. Like, c'mon, we're really going to do this now? So dramatic!

I decided that I needed some help, so I enlisted the expertise of a Physiotherapist who specializes in chronic pain as well as a Psychotherapist who specializes in pain and trauma. I threw myself into 8-weeks of intense therapy sessions, with lots of "homework" in between sessions. Aside: I think that first step, seeking help, is such a huge step. I commend everyone who has been there. 

I won't bore you with all of the details, but it was a lot of hard work and some unpleasant/uncomfortable conversations. I'm not a fan of discussing my feelings; however, my team immediately recognized that I'm a huge fan of neuropsychology and were able to frame things in a manner that appealed to me. For example, talking about my fears helped to move memories from my overactive amygdala to my frontal lobe where I can analyze it in a rational manner. On a weekly basis, I worked on increasing my understanding the neuroscience of pain and participating in activities to retrain/rewire my brain such as goal writing, a lot of guided meditation, and accepting that pain will always be a part of my life. 
The meditation was relevant to what I was experiencing, such as pain meditation and self-compassion meditation. I finally felt a sense of relaxation, which I've never fully experienced before, and didn't think was possible.  

I greatly increased my awareness about how my inner voice speaks to myself. I realized that I viewed my 12 years of surgeries and recoveries as "failures" - specifically, my failure to have successful outcomes. Because of this, I was associating flare ups with failures, and I often condemn myself for feeling pain. Self-kindness has been the most challenging skill for me to learn, and I'm still working hard at it. Surely, we can all work on this. 

I learned through the Physiotherapist that I was experiencing kinesiophobia - an irrational fear of specific physical movement. After 12 years of being told not to run, jump, or lunge, I realized that I had adopted a fear of these movements when in reality, my new knees are totally capable. We used a technique called graded motor imagery to slowly interpret these movements as safe. It was sooo strange to run for the first time in 12 years. I could hear my prosthetic knee clunking and groaning under the pressure. It took quite a few sessions, steps, and a lot of awkwardness and laughs, but eventually I got there. I can do these things! I now feel like my time in the gym is no longer about rehabilitation, but about building strength, and maintaining a healthy body. I feel a sense of freedom and am looking forward to maybe swinging a golf club this summer and taking longer hikes without the fear of "wrecking" my knees. 

Overall, I feel like I've made excellent progress during the past 2 months. The nightmares are now decreasing in frequency and severity.  I still have a long way to go, but I have the tools and awareness now to cope with pain flare ups and feelings of failure that creep into my brain. I'm proud of myself. I've worked so hard on my knees but have never spent this much time and energy working on my whole self. You know, I honestly thought that I could put the last 12 years behind me, but unfortunately, the brain often does not allow us to do this, regardless of how motivated one is to move forward. If this resonates with you, I highly recommend finding professional(s) who align with your beliefs/values and taking the time to acknowledge and work on it. 

I'm very grateful to Evan, who encouraged me to reduce my working schedule to focus on working through everything over these past few months. I'm aware that many do not have that luxury. 

Speaking of Ev, he acquired another Madabolic gym in John's Creek, an Atlanta suburb. For those of you who don't know what Ev actually does, he acquires gyms in the Madabolic franchise that are not thriving. He "fixes" them and runs them remotely. Think Gordon Ramsey "Kitchen Nightmares" but for gyms, and he continues to own the gym after the transformation. He now has 4 gyms across the US in Florida, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Georgia. He also consults with gyms in North America. 

He recently did a tour of his Madabolic gyms, and I was able to join him last week for the last few days of the tour, and to attend a beautiful wedding of a staff member at his Asheville location. It was a busy, whirlwind few days, but I really enjoyed the experience. 

Firstly...TARGET. Need I say more? 

Secondly...it was nice to meet the staff at Ev's gyms. He has so many incredible people working with him. That's key, given that he runs his gyms from Cayman.  I can also see that they have a great amount of respect for Evan. I'm so proud of the communities that he has created within these gyms. 

Finally, we got to spend a night at a "haunted" lake. Lake Lanier, Georgia, has a dark and controversial history. In the 1950's, a town called Oscarville, was flooded to create a lake to supply water and power to parts of Georgia. According to Google, the manner in which the land was purchased and flooded appears questionable, as many black families were displaced, and the ruins of the town were never demolished prior to the flooding.  Apparently, graveyards were flooded prior to the removal of bodies and legend has it that the displaced souls pull swimmers and boaters below the surface, drowning them. This is supported by the fact that there have been 700 deaths on the lake since its construction in 1956, making it one of the deadliest lakes in America. 

This sounded very romantic to us (ha!), so we decided to rent a cabin and spend a night on the lake. There were hundreds of boaters on this massive lake, participating in watersports galore. Surely if it was actually haunted, it wouldn't be so populated?

Ev and I sat on our lakefront deck, sipped some wine and listened to a podcast about the traumatic history of the lake. As we listened our cabin door suddenly creaked open...with nary a breeze! ;) We both audibly gasped, looked at each other and shrugged our shoulders. This happened twice.  Kinda eerie? 

That night, I awoke briefly to the sound of a man talking. I assumed that someone had checked in to the cabin next to us and I fell back asleep. In the morning, it was apparent that we were the only ones staying in the cabins. So... perhaps it was one of my weird nightmares? Or unsettled souls attempting to get my attention? I'm not sure. Regardless, it was creepy. 

Ironically, once we arrived back, safe and sound in Cayman, a massive rainfall almost caused our island to be submerged underwater. Hurricane season has begun! Cue the madness.  

We're busy prepping for our annual trip back to Canada for the summer. It's always a stressful time, coordinating vet appointments and completing the pet paperwork for the export of our furry friends. I'm so looking forward to the moment that I step off the plane in Saskatoon and breathe in that fresh Sasky air - hopefully it won't be frigid Sasky air. 

Cheers!

Every little thing is gonna be alright

 

Hey Friends,

I've had a really eventful April! 

Have you ever been in a bad funk where you felt like things just would never get better? I felt that in March. A lot of that was a result of weaning off of medication and struggling to accept that my knee is what it is -  and throw in the uncertainty of leaving a job after 10 years.  I truly felt hopelessness and despair for multiple weeks.  It's interesting how that voice inside your head tells you that things will never get better - and you believe it. I'm glad that I trudged through and made it out the other side. April took a complete 180 turn, and I'm feeling so much better about life, in general...and about my future. I'm documenting this because I hope that if I ever feel that despair again, this post will serve to remind me (and anyone else out there that feels it) that hopelessness will pass. There will be better days. 

I completed my last day of work with the Department of Education before Easter break. My "farewell tour" was so satisfying. My colleagues made me feel so incredibly special, loved, and appreciated. Ten years is a long time in Cayman - probably equivalent to our 25 in Canada, given that the island is so transient. We counted 6 colleagues who had outlasted me in our department (sounds like "Survivor" - kinda is). There were times during my goodbyes that I questioned whether or not I was making the right decision. But when my last day came and went, I knew the decision was made and was able to walk away feeling OK-ish about it, which was a bit surprising. I expected to feel elated. I think it will take time. 

A surprise from East End Primary!

My incredible colleagues from Student Services

Once I had a chance to catch my breath, Ev and I did a little island hopping for Easter break. Although, I wouldn't call it a "hop," but more of a "leap" to jump all the way over the Barbados and then St. Lucia. 

I know many of you are wondering why we would vacation on a Caribbean island when we live on a Caribbean island, but hear me out. As far as Caribbean islands go, I would describe Cayman as being more "Americanized" than other islands. I love the comfort of living on an island that has solid roadways, banking system (I can use my credit card everywhere), and modern conveniences like a movie theatre and large supermarkets. However, I was longing for a little getaway with a real "island feel." I wanted to buy local rum from a beach hut and adventure down shitty back roads to see views I had never seen before. 

Barbados and St. Lucia definitely fulfilled this need!

Barbados is the Eastern most island in the Caribbean, bordering the Atlantic Ocean. It's a 3.5 hour flight from Cayman, and we were able to skip the layover in Miami (Worst. Airport. Ever), and get a direct flight. Barbados is 2.5 times bigger than Cayman and more varied geographically and topographically. We opted to begin our stay near the St. Lawrence Gap, which is a bustling tourist area on the west side of the island. We finished our stay in Barbados at a beautiful resort on the southeastern coast of Barbados. The beaches are beautiful, and the water is crystal clear, but to be honest, my favorite part of our Barbados adventure was renting a car and driving to the Atlantic side of the island. The east coast of Barbados is more rugged, with dramatic rock formations and unspoiled beaches and bath pools. Although there were a few times we found ourselves on "roads" that may or may not have been traversable,  we found the locals to be very friendly, and never felt unsafe or at risk. 

Interesting fact: Barbados is one of two islands in the Caribbean that have monkeys! They are an invasive species (probably stowed away in a cargo ship at some point), and are destroying the agriculture in Barbados! Farmers are no longer able to grow fruit, as the monkeys are eating everything! Apparently the monkey population has expanded to around 60,000! We saw a few on our travels. They looked sneaky and shifty-eyed. 

Bathsheba, Barbados

such a tourist move. 

We then hopped on a puddle-jumper to St. Lucia. It was a short 30-minute flight from Barbados. We stayed in an airbnb in an area called Marigot Bay. I loved the location! Our room had an expansive balcony nestled on the side of a lush tree-filled hills, overlooking the quaint little bay. We spent many hours drinking wine and watching catamarans float in and out of the bay. 

St. Lucia was more "wild" than Barbados. Although there are multiple luxurious resorts, the island felt less developed, lined with small fishing villages and rum shacks dotting the coastline.  We opted to rent a car again and adventure on our own. The roads were windy and narrow. We dodged pot holes while winding up, down, and around dramatic hillsides. We found the locals to be more direct, following us and attempting to sell us their wares. It was blatantly obvious that St. Lucia is a much poorer country, and the locals are hustling to make cash off of tourists. I did get myself into a bit of trouble one evening. I was pleasantly buzzed on rum punches, watching the sun set over Marigot Bay and two local mean approached me, asking if I wanted to "have fun." "Ya! I love to have fun!" I responded happily. Ev returned and informed me that they were trying to sell me drugs. Oops. Shall I tell them I only take prescription medication from respected physicians? Ha!

My favorite site in St. Lucia was the majestic pitons that rise from the ocean. I managed to partake in a hike (go knees!) to gaze a breathtaking view of the pitons, followed the next day by a beautiful water view from our water taxi. We splashed in beautiful waterfalls and chilled on dark volcanic beaches. The scenery was breathtaking. So was the rum. I drank a lot of rum. A LOT. It was glorious. They even had a "rum taxi" that scooted around to beaches creating tasty rum cocktails for beach-goers. What a concept! The rum definitely helped when my knees protested post hike. 

The view from our balcony in Marigot Bay

Hike to view the pitons

Pitons from the water

Can you see the ridiculous photoshoot behind me? Girl missed an epic sunset. 

The holiday felt like it was customized to my needs and wants in that exact moment. I spent a week mesmerized by beautiful views, lightly buzzed in a rum punch haze... with my Evan. Awesomeness.

I returned ready to start new and immediately announced my new venture!

I have joined Achieve Cayman, a family-centered therapy service, which consists of two fabulous women, Trisha,  a Speech-Language Pathologist, and Teena, a Speech-Language Pathologist/Counseling Psychologist,  with whom I have worked and immensely respect. This is so exciting! I'm going to continue providing Speech Therapy to children, but hope to expand my services to include the adult population. As many of you know, I worked with the adult population in Saskatchewan and absolutely loved it. I can't wait to dive back into strokes, neurological disorders, dysphagia (swallowing), and even corporate speech pathology! It feels like I'm beginning a whole new phase of my life, after drowning in a challenging work environment and enduring surgery after surgery for so many years. I finally came up for air, took a look around, and felt safe enough to make some changes. 

I decided to top this all off with an epic birthday celebration. I've spent the last 3 birthdays post-op, feeling rough, and unable to celebrate in the manner that I would have liked. So I decided to go for it this, my 45th year, and booked a party bus to transport me and my buds on a pub crawl. 

My OG island bestie, Kat, flew down from Miami to celebrate. Having her here meant the world to me. I just relished being in her presence and was instantly whisked back in time to 10 years ago when everything felt so fun, new and carefree. This party bus was comical. It fit 25 people - we were a party of 12, so we basically had a giant bus as a dance floor.  I remember "Getting Low" with Lil Jon, belting out "Sweet Caroline" with the band at Peppers, and dancing to Miley Cyrus at Mango Tree. I danced until my knee seized up (and broke my sandal...TWICE), sang until I lost my voice, laughed until my belly ached, and just thoroughly enjoyed a fun-filled evening with my incredible people. The next morning was another story, with some missing memories,  but it was worth it. Evan said to me, "I haven't seen you that happy in years." Awww. It feels so good to feel joy again. 

Reunited! My OG island besties

"To the window....to the wall!"

It's like they know me. 

Don't do it. Don't do it. 

So there's the update. It all feels pretty good. Full disclosure, I'm still struggling with anxiety and pain. Unfortunately, the last 15 surgeries have caught up to me mentally and emotionally. But...I'm really working hard to feel better. My "team" has expanded to include a Psychotherapist (apparently I need to address the last 13 years? But do I? :),  a chronic pain physiotherapist, and a new pain specialist who flies down from Canada. I finally feel like I'm not just a passenger in my life "getting through" each day, but that I'm now steering the bus (maybe a party bus? Ha!). I feel more in control. I have the best support system, so although I know there will be some tough days ahead, I finally feel like I have all the ingredients I need to move forward. I'm so ready for this next phase of my life. 

Cheers!

My nervous system is VERY NERVOUS - change is hard

Hey Friends,

A lot of changes are coming my way, and I feel ready to share some of it with you. 

Firstly, Britknee, Johnknee, whatever you want to call my right prosthetic knee, still sucks. It just sucks. I don't know what else to say. It's been over a year since I received my right total knee replacement; hence, the typical healing process is mostly complete. I suffer from a relentless deep pain in my knee that causes me to clench my teeth daily and increase my botox dosage for a very deep frown line in my forehead. My knee is so stiff and sore at night, it wakes me up mid-sleep and I have to pick up this heavy limb and roll it over just so that I can change sleeping positions.  It feels like a dead appendage attached to my body. 

I've now seen 3 orthopedic surgeons who all say that everything is fine. The prosthesis is stable. There are no loose parts, and there is no infection. 20% of total knee patients are "not happy" with their prosthesis, and I just may be one of those unfortunate people. When I researched the statistic on dissatisfied patients, I read about patients complaining of inability to kneel and difficulties returning to their previous tennis form. My expectations weren't that high. I just wanted to have less pain than I did prior to the surgery. I had hope that this 12-year knee pain journey would end. 

I have a theory. I was able to access my OR notes and immediately saw that my right knee prosthesis is larger than my left. I understand that it's the surgeon measures and uses specific techniques to determine the appropriate size for each patient, but I hypothesize that the right prosthetic is too large for my body. It's much stiffer and unable to extend fully; whereas, the left knee is much more lax and "normal" feeling. The left knee, by the way, is great!

Regardless, nothing can be done now. A revision is a big, risky surgery. More bone would need to be resected. The risk of infection increases. It's not an option, currently. This is my knee. 

How disappointing. 

I wallowed in this for a good while. I felt the same grief that I experienced 12 years ago when I was originally diagnosed.  I am grappling with feelings of regret. I've had days (weeks!) where I've beat myself up over making a bad decision. My confidence has taken a major blow. I've experienced feelings of hopelessness and despair. I've even experienced moments where I felt like I was no longer adding value to this world - now that's a scary place to be! It's been really rough. But you know what? Life just keeps moving on, with or without you. So I've decided that it's time to transition from grief into action mode (with moments of grief sprinkled in...you know, for good measure). 

Firstly, I made a decision to wean off of the painkillers that are making my brain foggy. The main one is Gabapentin. Given that I've been on and off of various dosages over 12 years, weaning off of gabapentin has been challenging. The first few weeks I suffered from serious withdrawal symptoms - nausea, dizziness, sleep and mood disturbances, and serious agitation. I couldn't drive in traffic without losing my shit every 3 minutes! (Girl, you live in the Caribbean!- the driver in front of you is either driving 20 km under or over the speed limit. You've known this for almost a decade!) The good news is I'm down to an itty bitty dose and feeling cognitively clearer. The pain has increased, but you can't win 'em all, hey?

In addition, I've reached out to my pain specialist and am receiving guidance from a pain psychotherapist. I know the pain is "in my head," and I don't mean that in a condescending way. It literally is IN MY HEAD. My brain is trying to keep me safe after years of post surgery "survival". My nervous system is VERY NERVOUS, and is in an overprotective setting, meaning that it is producing very painful responses to what may be fairly normal stresses. My brain has changed over the last 12 years as the pain has become chronic. Luckily science has shown that the brain and nervous system can be re-programmed. My very nervous nervous system can be reversed. My cousin recently sent me a meme about being "chalant" as opposed to being nonchalant. I'm definitely striving for nonchalant, although I'm not sure if my DNA will allow that!  I think science is super cool, and I love this "brain training" angle, as it gives me back some control. Given the feelings of helplessness I've been experiencing,  I think that diving back into this, putting the work in, and expecting a good outcome is a solid plan. It's helped me in the past and I know that actively completing assignments and exercises is good for me mentally and emotionally. 

Lastly, I've made a significant lifestyle change. I've resigned from my position as the speech-language pathologist with the department of education in the Cayman Islands. This was, and has been, a tough one. It literally took me 3 hours to hit "send" on the resignation letter! The last year has been incredibly physically challenging for me. The students that we're working with in mainstream schools have become much more complex over the past few years. Many of the students on my caseload are diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. I've really enjoyed working with my kiddos, and I've learned so much from this population. I developed a better understanding of the brain differences in these children, and how we need to make the shift from treating "deficits" to fostering acceptance and providing support to let these kiddos' strengths shine through.  This is much different than what we were taught many moons ago. Learning is cool. 

But...I digress. 

Working with my kiddos; however, requires much more physical strength and endurance than my knees can handle. I've found it challenging getting up and down off the floor, crawling, lifting, and occasionally chasing run-away students who are in harm's way. There have been days where I've returned home from work and collapsed. It's hard to admit that your body just can't so it anymore - especially at age 44! 

There were a host of other factors that contributed to my decision to resign. But this isn't the forum for that (my co-workers are nodding and smiling. Haha!)

So...I have one week of work left. I have mixed feelings and am presently experiencing an unexpected emotional response to leaving this job. It's a tough gig with its own set of challenges, but the team of specialists that I've worked with over the past 10 years have been extraordinary. I can't express how enlightening it's been to basically work with the United Nations team of specialists. Our therapists hail from all over the world: Africa, UK, Europe, America, and various Caribbean countries. I've learned so much professionally, but mostly I've learned about life, in general. As a middle-class (let's face it - privileged) Canadian, I arrived 10 years ago pretty naive. Although I had lived around the world with Evan's hockey career, I had never worked with people who had such vast experience living and working in various parts of the world. I learned about the power of a passport (I had no idea that some passport holders can't just travel willy nilly!) I also learned about the adversity that many of my co-workers faced to get to where they are now. Can you imagine growing up and fearing for you life on a daily basis? While I was over here complaining about splitting my life between two houses during a divorce! Perspective-taking is an incredible life skill that really helps you grow. How many people in the world are given this opportunity? I'm really grateful for that. I have learned A LOT from this team. 

Also...the office has always kept me close to Monty, and elicited so many Monty memories. In fact, I swear I glimpsed him and his backpack out of the corner of my eye yesterday when I made a little thank you speech. I feel his presence around me, and I'm fearful that I'll lose that connection once I'm not physically there. Sounds like a topic for my psychotherapist, hey?

No worries though (but...ALL the worries!) I will be staying on island and continuing to practice as a speech-language pathologist. More on that later. Soon come!

In the meantime, I'm in this weird transitional period where I'm preparing to close one chapter and move to the next. I'm trying to soak up all the things that have brought me joy over the past 10 years, including  daily laughs with my work wife who has been my ROCK for the past few years, reminiscing about the good, bad, and the ugly, and embracing the love and thoughtfulness that my colleagues have been showering me with as we part professional ways.

"Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end" - Lucus Anneus Senneca, or more recently, one of my favorite 90's songs, "Closing Time" by Semisonic. 

So there's the update!

Cheers

Office treats! Look how excited the puns make me

My "Monday countdown" caterpillar

1 Monday left!

Pun-themed farewell office lunch. I feel "seen" :)

These puns are on fire!

Like...unreal. 

Me and Dilbert being super "chalant" haha. 

The Evolution of Romance

 Given that Valentine's Day is just around the corner, I've been spending time with my students discussing love, and ways to show someone that you love and care for them.

One little girl was very keen to explore the topic, "When a boy gives you flowers, that's romantic, right Ms, Kirstie?"

"Yes, I guess it can be," I responded. 

She nodded her head as she traced her heart picture, "But what does romantic mean?" she asked. 

Good question.

I wasn't really sure how to answer this one!

"Something is romantic if it makes the person you love feel excited or happy?" I shrugged, attempting to redirect the line of questioning. I really didn't know how to define "romance" to a 6 year old!

When I look back at the last 28 years with Ev, I can very plainly see that my definition of romance has vastly changed throughout the years!

I've been told that I possess incredible episodic memory. Sometimes a smell, song, or phrase will transport me back, even as far back as my toddler years, and I able to recall an event, or even the way that I felt in a particular moment in time. I assumed everyone had this ability, but I've learned that most of my friends can't remember that one time I angrily threw Kyla's "baby alive" down a flight of stairs in preschool (baby was NOT so alive after that one!) or the joy I felt when I opened the cool purple Northern Reflections T-shirt that Amy and Janna bought me for my birthday in grade 5. I remember it all!

One of my most favorite romantic memories stems from a magical night in March 1997. 

I was 17 years old, had been dating Evan Lindsay for approximately 1 month, and was absolutely besotted with him (I've always wanted to use the word "besotted"). Evan invited me to a Raider party, which basically consisted of the hockey team, and whomever could fit in the unlucky host's basement. The team had just won a big game, Evan was MVP, I was dating the MVP, about to graduate high school, and sitting on top of the world!

I arrived a little late to the party, donning my Guess jeans paired with my Mavi jean vest over a white crop top (the Shania Twain "Any Man of Mine" look), wreaking of Malibu Musk. I looked HOT. To my shock and amazement, my very introverted boyfriend was dancing on top of a table, and chugging red wine out of a paper bag (we were at the mercy of the 19 year olds who pulled booze for us). Granted, our relationship was new, but this wild "party Evan" persona was very new. 

Mark McGrath (Sugar Ray), "Fly" was blasting from a CD in a sweet JVC stereo, and as Evan saw me walk through the door, he locked eyes with me, pointed his shaky drunk finger in my direction, and lip sync'd the words, "Who knows how long I've loved you." 

OH. MY. GOD.

Did anyone else just see Evan Lindsay profess his undying love for me in front of all of his teammates at a Raider party?

Apparently not...but I sure did. 

I can still feel my heart completely fall out of my chest. This was my teenage girl fantasy come true. 

That night, I felt like I was dating the most romantic "man/boy" (we were 17!) in the world. Even as I pulled the car over later that night, watching Evan violently puke all the red wine into the street, I just knew this guy was a keeper. 

The romance just kept coming.

Every 3rd of the month (our first date was Feb 3) for ONE WHOLE YEAR, a box of 12 long stem roses were delivered to my house. These weren't Safeway roses, people! These were exquisite, perfect FLORIST roses. Evan often included a thoughtful note, or even an original poem, professing his very real 17 year old love for me. 

I hung each and every rose, upside down, in my room for that entire year until one day my Mom walked in and exclaimed, "This place looks like a rose graveyard. Maybe we can toss some of these dead roses?" 

I found out years later that Evan had been using his parents credit card (for emergencies only) to purchase my very pricey roses each month. "Well, it was kind of an emergency!" he explained...which to me, was also quite romantic. His parents may have thought differently! Ha. 

After 28 years together, the romance isn't quite so "flashy." And...thankfully Evan is no longer drunk dancing on tables or using his parents credit card to purchase flowers for me (AND...I'm no longer wearing Malibu Musk). Because that would be weird.

Romance now is more subtle...but also much more meaningful and thoughtful. 

Romance is preparing my tea for me early in the morning, so that it's the perfect temperature to sip as soon as I've woken up. 

Romance is filling up the vehicle with gas the night before I need it for a work road trip.

Romance is leaving little notes in unexpected places, wishing me a good day or encouraging me to keep going. 

Terrible handwriting, but lovely to discover under my pillow!

Romance is cooking and freezing meals for me when he's off island for work (he knows I'll probably eat popcorn and cookie dough like a 12 year old!)

Romance is holding my hand and giving it an extra squeeze in uncomfortable situations. 

Romance is not having to say a word, just sitting quietly together, thankful for your person's presence. 

Don't get me wrong, I still enjoy passion, flowers, and impractical gifts on the occasion, but to me, it's the day-to-day ways in which he demonstrates his love for and pays close attention to my needs that also qualifies as romance now - a much different definition than my 17-year old self would have expressed.

Ev's been off island for the past 12 days for work, missing a massive "nor' wester" that produced 18-foot waves, destroying our landscaping and causing our pool to overflow with trees and debris. Needless to say, I'm really looking forward to his return this weekend. It will be nice to get back to our regularly scheduled programming. 

Cheers friends - Happy Valentine's Day!

This pool...not so romantic!