A new season

 Hi everyone,

I know it's been a while. Full disclosure: I composed a blog post about three weeks ago and it felt very negative. I held off for a few days, contemplating whether or not to hit "publish," and I'm glad that I waited because things improved (they always do). I needed to vent, but the act of simply putting my thoughts in writing was just what I needed, whilst sparing you all from my dramatic anguish. 

I'll get the crappy stuff out of the way first. My left hip is causing me a lot of pain. We knew that another cortisone injection may not be as effective as the first. I fully prepared myself for this, but once the pain hit, it hit hard. All of those negative thoughts and emotions took over, and I slid into a bit of a slump? pity-retreat? (it was longer than a party).  Let's channel The Princess Bride and call it "The Pain Pit of Despair." While I awaited a new MRI, I took anti-inflammatories in attempt to dull the pain, but predictably, that lead to a gastritis flare up with horrible stomach pain for a few days. I'm at the point where I just can't take any oral medication for pain. Everything has some type of damn side effect. It's like an insult to injury - I see your awful hip pain and raise you debilitating stomach pain. Anyway, I spent a few days immersed in my condition, which is not fun. It's lonely. Anyone with a chronic condition will attest to this. Social media doesn't help. The narrative that I was telling myself was: Everyone is living a full life except for you. No one has time for your health bullshit anymore. This disease has robbed you of a "normal" life. You deserve this. You are a loser.

My psychologist suggests that I imagine saying these words to my 5-year-old self. It's effective. I picture little people-pleasing Kirstie with that white-blonde bowl bob who was devastated by anything less than 100% on a spelling test, and I immediately stop because these harsh words would break her. But...then I feel like an asshole for berating a 5-year-old. 

 The good news is, I have this "toolbox" created with years of work with pain psychologists, as well as an app that gets me through some tough days ("Curable" - highly recommend). And, I had a few vent sessions with my mom and Evan (I am SO thankful for Mom and Evan who always love and support me, even when I'm struggling to love myself).  It's hard work to climb your way out of that pit of despair, especially at a time when you don't have the energy and, frankly, don't see the point. But, one day at a time (with a few backward slides), I made it out. 

Aside: someone commented on my toned upper body during these dark days, and I had to bite my tongue from replying, "Yep, working on the shoulders to help me climb out of pain pit of despair." Dark, my friends. Dark. 

"Life is pain, highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something." - Westley, The Princess Bride

Interestingly, the MRI revealed that my hip is not as bad as it has me believing. In fact, I would say that the left hip is a bit of a drama queen! Although it looks like the hip of a 70-year-old with advanced osteoarthritis, the gnarly cartilage deformities which make me an anomaly are minimal. My ortho postulates that perhaps this is the stage of my disease before we hit the point of no return. He provided me with options, which is great. I typically don't get options. I could go ahead and get the total hip replacement, but to be honest, I'm not mentally prepared for that right now. When I think of having surgery, the bitter taste of anesthetic fills my mouth and causes me to gag (I told you the left hip is a drama queen!). He suggested a fairy new injection on the market called Arthrosamid. This injection is comprised of a man-made hydrogel, which cushions the joint. Perhaps it will help to protect my cartilage from falling out in chunks? It's worth a SHOT (literally, ba-da-dum). Most of the research is for knees, but hips/knees, what's the diff? (speaking from experience, there is a HUGE difference, but that's cool, I'm open).  This injection will hopefully be available on island by January. In the meantime, I'm going to try a Synvisc injection (lubrication) in an attempt to reduce the pain. Again, none of these things are covered by insurance, so some girls get their Louis for Christmas, while others get prosthetic joints and hip injections. 

I asked my ortho why I would be experiencing so much more pain on a joint that, on MRI, looks much less scary than the other joints did (RIP right knee, left knee, and right hip), and in typical Dr. Alwin fashion, he replied softly, "In medicine 1 plus 1 rarely equals 2." Got it. I know my pain pathways well enough to suspect that my hyperfocus on the pain and negative thoughts were making my brain amplify the pain. 

So, we've got a plan. Great. Moving on...

We've just returned from an excellent trip to the Carolinas! Ev owns a gym in Asheville, NC and in Greenville, SC, so he frequents these locations a few times a year. Ev's Greenville manager, Marley got married in Greenville last weekend, so I had an excuse to tag along on this one! 

I love the Carolinas. Back in the day, Ev briefly played hockey in Charlotte, and we both talked about North Carolina being a location that we would consider settling in one day. From a topographical standpoint, the Carolinas have a bit of everything! You've got the coast and the beaches, mountain ranges, beautiful lakes, waterfalls, and temperate weather (TYPICALLY). I've expressed that in ALL CAPS because if you've followed our adventures, you'll know that Ev and I historically vacation in unprecedented weather. Nothing about our vacations is ever "typical." We've experienced Florida's coldest Christmas in 50 years, as well as California's historic Maverick waves that closed the coastal highway. So, when the temperature dropped from a balmy 72 degrees to 25 degrees in 24-hours, we weren't all that surprised. We were, however, a little surprised when it began snowing during our Brevard, NC road trip. I take full responsibility for this, as I was recently complaining about missing seasonal changes in Cayman. I find that when I'm stuck in a rut, the lack of weather/environment changes in Cayman seem to contribute to that feeling of "stuckness." Well guess what? We got seasons on this trip, baby! Fall (beautiful and picturesque Hallmark-quality), winter (even the addition of snow and icy roads), and a touch of Spring (watch that snow melt in 2 hours). All in a mere 5 days. Incredible! I see you, Mother Nature!

I was a bit nervous about attending Marley's wedding, as I only knew the bride, groom, and a few other guests. But it was a super fun wedding, and everyone was very friendly and welcoming!

When people ask me what Evan does for a living, I often struggle to summarize his occupation. He owns and runs 3 gyms remotely, and consults with gyms across North America, but I rarely get to see him in action (when he was goalie, I had a front row seats!)  I joke that it must be weird when gym members hear that the owner lives in the Cayman Islands. It sounds sketch, and as a gym member, I might assume that the owner might be a money laundering ass?  (Also, what exactly is money laundering and why aren't we doing it?) So, I am always happy when Ev receives so much positive feedback from gym members meeting him for the first time.

It was really cool to be approached by gym members at Marley's wedding who stopped by to introduce themselves and commend Evan on the community that he's helped to create from afar. Ev's teams at all gym locations are comprised of really good people, and I know that Ev has worked very hard to recruit and create these teams. In turn, the members that these teams attract are comprised of really good people. At the risk of husband-bragging (I'm always happy to be on the receiving end of kid-bragging, so give me 2 minutes 😉), I'm in awe of Evan's ability to have this vision, create this vision, and see it through from thousands of miles away. It's not lost on me that he has some very specialized skills.  (Not JUST an incredible butterfly save!) Although I'm always proud to stand beside him, I was incredibly proud to be by his side at the wedding, where I was able to meet the Madabolic community and hear the stories of those whose lives his gyms have changed. Evan is admired and respected by so many, and I will always be his biggest fan. (That concludes my husband-bragging). 

And guess what? Evan even danced at the wedding (well, shuffled his feet kinda to the beat of the music with a few enthusiastic-ish fist pumps. Ha!). I've never been to a wedding where each and every single guest was on that dance floor. How awesome is that? Thank you to Tom and Marley for including us in such a fun, inspiring event. You are both such good people and that was evident by your incredible support system!

Aside: One friendly woman approached me and asked, "You live in the Cayman Islands?? Do you like swim with stingrays every day?" to which I replied, "Only on Fridays!" (Bahaha, I'd like to thank that 2nd glass of champagne for the confidence to engage in witty banter with strangers). 

After the wedding in Greenville, we decided that 25 degrees (-7 degrees Celsius) was perfect waterfall hiking temperature! BRRRRRR! So, we took a road trip to Lake Toxoway, near a cute little mountain town called Brevard in North Carolina. Honestly, although we did not have proper clothing for these temperatures, I secretly enjoyed snuggling under a warm blanket by the crackling fireplace. Cozy. I've had my fill of winter now. See you in a few years!

Overall, we had an excellent time, and it was so awesome to meet so many great people and enjoy a few days on our own adventuring. We love a good road trip.

Well folks, that's all from here. 

Cheers to seasons. If you didn't fully catch the metaphor, like the seasons, everything is temporary - those dark days will eventually brighten up. Hang in there. 

My summer "vision"

 

I've never been a huge fan of the vision board.

The vision board always felt a little "woowoo" to me. Not fully understanding what it was, I pictured people pasting dollar signs and photos of Italian landscapes on a board and then sitting back, awaiting the moment when money would magically appear for an Italian vacation. I viewed it as a substitute for action. 

The other reason that I wasn't a vision board fan is that thinking about the future scares me. No one knows what the future holds, but my experience with this degenerative cartilage condition has provided me with enough information to know that my health will always be an issue. I joke that these are "future Kirstie" problems, but to be honest, in my darkest moments, my "vision" has consisted of more surgeries, hospital stays and a wheelchair. 

Well, my ideas about vision boards changed dramatically this spring, when a dear friend, Emily, ran a vision board session for a group of us at a birthday event. 

Emily began the session with a guided meditation. I'm not sure if it was the soothing sound of her voice, the words she was using, the temperature of the room, or simply my state of mind that day, but as she encouraged us to visualize things, actions, people, etc that bring us joy, I felt inspired. 

While many of the girls chatted and visited while constructing their boards, I sat quietly in a corner and cut, ripped, and glued for a full hour without distraction. 

I kept seeing the word "connections."

I envisioned myself connecting with clients and found photos of people assisting others with communication. 

I envisioned myself connecting with Evan and collected pictures of scenes that represent that to me such as beach barbeque sunsets and scuba diving dates. 

I envisioned myself connecting with family and friends, and selected words such as "real smiles," "laughing until it hurts," and "be present."

In addition to connecting with others, I envisioned treating my body with kindness, regardless of its status. I have a tendency to beat myself up when things aren't working properly, and I know this isn't healthy. I added the words, "Learn to love your body again."

So, I went into this summer with a goal of connection and self-compassion in mind, and I must say, it worked! 

The psychology behind the vision board is that by visualizing our goals consistently, a part of your brain called the Reticular Activating System (RAS) becomes activated. The RAS acts to prioritize information that reaches your brain, so your RAS becomes attuned to opportunities that align with your goal. 

Knowing that I really wanted to connect with others over the summer, I did my best to accept any invitations that came my way, regardless of the weather, the drive, etc. In addition, I made the decision to celebrate our 20th anniversary by throwing a party for family and friends. I also focused on being as present as possible in daily events, but also during interactions. 

Overall, it was a really great summer at Candle Lake! 

Firstly, the cortisone injection did its job, and I was gifted with 2 months of minimal hip pain! This allowed me to do all the fun summer activities - I rode my bike almost every day, took Dilbert for long woodsy walks, wakesurfed with my boat gang, and participated in my favorite activity - stand up paddling down Fisher's Creek on calm mornings. This was total bliss! 

I feel like I spent time with most of my favorite people (a few were missing this summer due to busy schedules). I DJ'd for my rad Dad's sunset boat floats. I silly laughed with Kayla while we created a seltzer testing/crop checking expedition for two. I reminisced about the good ol' days with my mom and Janna, and then mom and Lani, and then mom, Kit, and Kayla over prosecco (see a pattern? hehe) I floated with friends on the lake between cold spells and smoky skies. I reconnected with my cousins at Shell Lake for an incredible day of games, songs, and headstands. I took a few trips to the city to see my sister's new house, attend some concerts (Sing it: "I don't want no scrubs"), ride some rides (Allicia made me!), and reunite with my high school girls for an epic night of belly laughs, dancing, and some tears. (That's just a snapshot!)

Being with my people makes me feel so "me." Relationships that allow you to reveal your true vulnerable self through all aspects of life really are the definition of true connection, don't you think? I feel so lucky to have these relationships both on island and with my "old" gang at Candle Lake. Cheers to that!

I always envisioned us throwing a 25th anniversary party at the lake; however, as our 20th neared, I began wondering, why were we waiting? 

Our wedding day was one of the best days of my life. Some of the memories are a bit fuzzy (I was overserved, Def Leopard was involved), but I do have a vivid memory that I frequently retrieve when I'm feeling down. I remember looking out at our guests - all the people who came from far and wide - and feeling so loved and supported. Despite the fact that my parents divorced when I was 12, our families came together, enjoyed each other and celebrated us by partying hard! I longed to feel this sense of connection again, so I threw out the traditional 25th anniversary celebration, and opted for the less popular 20th anniversary PAAAARTY!

I spent a lot of time thinking about the people who would be attending and considered aspects of the party that would bring people joy. I hung old photographs around the hall, ensuring that every person invited was depicted on the wall in a memory. I knew my Aunty Myrna would love this, and she did! I created a music list, thinking of all the guests who used to party in my parents' basement in the 80's (Those were SOME parties!) I ensured that "Gloria," "Fishing in the Dark," and "Living on a Prayer" were cued later in the evening when the alcohol was sure to provide some dancing courage. Speaking of alcohol, I carefully mapped out all guests drink preference and amount, providing an open bar (I grossly underestimated the amount of Sleemans my buds would drink - sorry! Pigs! just jokes). I created a photo booth corner with props, knowing how much my buds LOVE to wear an Evan Lindsay jersey, and I created a few games with prizes for my competitive crew. I even paid homage to our official animal of summer, the shark, by commissioning my cousin, Norah, to bake us jawsome cookies. It took time and effort, but totally worth it! Looking back, I got a lot of enjoyment out of sorting through photos, organizing music (while envisioning how guests would react to "their" song), collecting photo props for the booth, and searching party stores for supplies with my mom - the prep work! But the night of the party, when I announced that our hired designated driver was doing her last round of drop-offs and noticed that no one was budging from the dance floor/photo booth/bar, I knew that it was a success. No one wanted the night to end, and that brought me so much joy! (Shout out to Linds and Brad, our incredible clean-up crew who showed up the day after when everyone felt a little worse for wear). 

Now the party was totally my idea, but Evan, doing what he does best, gave me full reign to fulfill my vision. Behind the scenes he set up our photo sharing platform, moved hall furniture for 2 hours until I was satisfied with our setup, and fulfilled his role as best supporting husband, ensuring that everyone was taken care of at our party. After 20 years of marriage, we know and accept our roles! Ev will never be our social activity director, and I will never be the logistics/financial planner of the family. Ha!

As our Canadian summer came to an end, although I felt sad that it was over (I always do), I felt like I had fulfilled my goal of connecting. Thanks to everyone who made it happen! Love to our Candle Lake crew! Shout out to cortisone - 'roids get a bad rep, but they can pull through in a pinch. 

Back in my happy place!

 Hey Friends,

There has been a lot of action in the last month! Let me catch you up...

Firstly, there is a massive wildfire in northern Saskatchewan called the "Shoe" wildfire. It began in May and dry conditions and strong winds caused it to spread quickly. By the end of May, the fire was over 500,000 hectares (Google convert says that is almost 2000 square miles) and had a massive impact on the province of Saskatchewan, burning many lakes and cabins. By mid-June, the fire was moving towards Candle Lake at a rate of a few kilometers per day, and Candle Lakers were becoming concerned. We have many friends and family who own summer properties (we call them "cabins") at Candle Lake, but there are also about 850 permanent residents here, who live year-round. A voluntary evacuation order came when the fire was about 12km from Candle Lake. At that point, my family began collecting valuables and securing their properties. Thankfully, my mom was able to gather some sentimental items - you know, my VEIL! and lots and lots of photos. My sister and dad rigged up a sprinkler system on our roof, and Kayla managed to locate a box of very important love letters from Evan (Think long-distance teenage angst, "I miss you so much it hurts"). It was pretty scary. We've owned our place at the lake for 21 years, and I have an attic full of boxes of treasures. I pleaded with Mother Nature that I would absolutely sort through my boxes if my cabin remained standing! I found a wildfire app that showed wind direction and speed, and being the person that I am, I OBSESSED over this app for about 2 weeks, awakening in the middle of the night to ensure that the dreaded east wind was not blowing the fire in our direction. Things became very heated (see what I did there?) when the fire was 9km from the lake and a daily report stated that it was "imminent" that the fire would reach Candle Lake. Thankfully, the next day, Mother Nature called a truce and dumped over 20mm of rain on the fire, the water bombers, fire fighters, and ground crew were able to regain control of the fire, and Candle Lake was out of harm's way. Phew! The fire is still not contained; however, it is no longer threatening any communities. 

Candle Lake in the blue box when fire was at closest point

For about a week, our plans to return home to Canada were put on hold as we monitored the fire. The pets' exports are complicated and must be timed with our departure, so I was debating delaying appointments, for fear that our departure would be delayed, or even worse, cancelled. Thankfully, it all worked out. The Paw Patrol bravely crawled into their pet taxis and made the long trek home without incident, other than one member pooping her pants (she will remain anonymous, and no, it was not me). 

I can't put into words how GOOD it felt to walk into our home. When I imagined the possibility of losing our happy place on the lake, I felt sick. I know it's just a house, a material thing that can be replaced, but there are 21 years of incredible memories in this house. Evan's dad, Jerry, assisted with renovations, and he and Evan spent hours converting this cabin into, what was our permanent home for a few years. I was so incredibly grateful that our home was untouched by the fires, and I wake up every morning, feeling the breeze through the window, listening to the loons make their loon sounds (wail?), and the water lap on shore and I feel so SO grateful to be here. Also, I kept my promise to Mother Nature and immediately sorted through dozens and dozens of boxes. The majority was tossed, but I found some special treasures. I'm so thankful that they are safe. Aside: yes, we are keeping ALL of Evan's CD's because the island Jeep has a CD player and Big Shiny Tunes still rocks. 

It's hard to believe that we've been home for 2 weeks now! It's flying by much too fast. I feel like I've been in a Saskatchewan safari, encountering baby loons, baby geese, baby ducks, and even a bear while riding my bike! (Ev since has bought me a bear bell). A deer almost ran into me on my bike yesterday. It was spooked by a car and diverted straight into my path. Imagine hitting a deer on a bike? Yikes. Close call there, hey? (I've re-acquired my Sasky accent). I wonder if more wildlife has moved in as a result of the fires? Most importantly, I've reconnected with my family and my precious lake buds! I am soaking up my lake routine of morning paddles on my stand-up paddleboard through Fisher's Creek, bike rides to the village, pop-in visits from friends and family, and perhaps some consumption of alcohol on boats. (Lots of boats and so many alcoholic canned bevvy choices). It's been wonderful. 

As far as the hip goes, after being provided with the injection choices, I opted for probably the least popular choice - the good 'ol cortisone injection. When insurance came back, denying coverage for PRP and Hyaluronic acid injections, I hummed and hawed over the $5000 CI price tag, and decided that my hip probably didn't deserve my investment. Okay, that sounds harsh, but the reality is, there is no research that indicated these injections would improve my situation and given that my hip is pretty much past the point of no return, I decided to opt for the "pretend it's not happening" method. By the end of June, my pain had significantly increased, my mobility was declining, and I just wanted something to hold me over during the summer. Cortisone is generally effective at providing some temporary relief. 

I went into the clinic for the injection, which is done under fluoroscopy (X-ray). Although the needle for the hip injection was much larger and intimidating than the knee needle, I am not afraid of injections, and the pain was temporary. Once the injection was complete, my body does what it does best. It freaked the eff out. I had another vasovagal response (which I had forewarned the medical team about), and instead of passing out this time, my body went into full overreactive dramatic mode, convulsing and shaking uncontrollably on the x-ray table. The surgeon was called back in, along with another 7 medical professionals (was there a Dentist there at one point?), and everyone was kinda panicking. Evan was there as well, and he was attempting to explain that this was a common occurrence, but once they clocked my blood pressure at 200/140, I thought they were going to use the defibrillator paddle on me, "Clear!" Once I could finally speak again, I assured them, "I'm fine. I'm fine. It's my parasympathetic system." How embarrassing. Good GAWD. Why does my body always assume that I'm on the brink of death? So annoying. It all lasted about 30 minutes, but once the dust cleared, I was like, "Hey, how long do you think this cortisone injection will provide relief?" My orthopedic surgeon explained that it differs for every patient, but typically it ranges from 1-6 months. Please be a 6 month'er, please be a 6 month'er, please be a 6 month'er. 

Unfortunately, it's now the one-month mark and hip pain is returning. I'm still hopeful that I just tweaked something. I dunno. When has it ever just been a tweak, like seriously, Kirstie.  I messaged my surgeon asking if it's possible that it's wearing off and if there is anything I can do to hang on to the beautiful anesthetic effects. He responded that the effects of cortisone wearing off at one month are possible, but not probable. Ooooooof. Story of my joint health right there. Low probability is my jam. Thoughts and prayers to my left hip. Please just give me this summer. I will deal with you appropriately in September. Amen. 

Enjoy these summer days, my friends!

Cheers to Evan Lindsay love letters, wedding veils, and Big Shiny Tunes 2 (the best one). 

The one where Cinderella trades her glass slipper for a PRP injection

 Hi Friends,

Okay, I'm going to compare myself to a Disney princess, because truth be told, I always wanted to be a princess (in retrospect, I'd be a terrible princess), so here it goes:

As the clock struck midnight, my majestic horse-drawn carriage transformed back into a mango, my stallion morphed into my special dog with attachment issues, my footman transitioned back to my blind bitey cat, my beautiful iridescent gown converted into athleisure wear, and my glass slippers vanished, leaving a pair of orthopedic shoes in their place.  

A bit dramatic, right? Actually, that doesn't sound so bad - kinda comfy. That metaphor was a fail. 

What I'm trying today say is, the honeymoon phase of my recovery came to an abrupt end. About a month ago, I was cleaning out Stevie's litter box, when I failed to return to a vertical position. Since then, pain has been shooting down my left groin and lower back. I bend over and then something abruptly stops me from standing up straight. That something, it would seem, is another shitty hip. 

You guys, I've been through this brutal cycle of pain, acute pain, surgery, recovery, chronic pain, acute pain, surgery, etc, etc for about 14 years now. Like I'm not stranger to it, yet does it get any easier? NOPE. UGH. 

I knew that the left hip was failing but was relishing in this magical period of time where I felt little to no pain - sleeping through a night without waking up in pain was so so good. The surgeon theorized that my new strong hip would take the weight off my shitty hip and give me more time. Well, it was an incredible run of about 2.5 months. During that run, I appreciated life like I've never appreciated it before. It was an extended glimmer. It felt like my senses were enhanced. I saw life through a glimmer filter. I inhaled wonderful smells more deeply, my freshly washed sheets felt extra smooth on my skin, the birds sounded chirpier on my morning walks, and even plain tap water tasted icier and more refreshing from my "Ms. Kirstie" Stanley. I felt joy from seemingly routine everyday events. My speech therapy sessions were on point. I literally walked out of sessions, thinking "Boom! I rocked that." My workouts at the gym felt amazing - I was doing real "gym things" instead of physio exercises. I blasted Bif Naked, "I love myself today," as I cruised to the grocery store with my windows down. I questioned if most people ever get an opportunity like this - like a comeback high after things have been low for an extended period of time? Do other people get glimmer months like this? It felt like a gift. I'm really thankful for those few months. 

However, I've since re-entered the pain cycle and am currently seeking the next steps in the shitty hip saga. Basically, the left hip has moderate-to-severe cartilage damage, less damage than the right hip had when I went in for the total hip replacement. So, it's not yet ready, or eligible under insurance, for termination. We have a unique window to try some therapeutic techniques that we've never been able to try before, given that my other joints have always been identified as issues only once they've hit the point of no return. So...yay??! To add insult to injury (literally), my hip flexor and rectus femoris (that sounds like a naughty muscle) on my new hip side are screaming out for help, but guess what? That shitty right knee ain't helping, nor is the left shitty hip. You are on your own, kids! Good luck. 

I met with Dr. Alwin, the surgeon who replaced my right hip and he suggested that we inject the shit out of it. I mean, he would never use the word "shit" because he's a very quiet and reserved man, but when he talked about injecting it with PRP, hyaluronic acid, and possibly cortisone, I heard, "LET'S INJECT THE SHIT OUT OF IT!" (It feels more dramatic, like an exciting sci fi movie with Sigourney Weaver).

For those of you who aren't familiar with PRP, it stands for Platelet Rich Plasma. They draw your own blood, spin it in a centrifuge to concentrate platelets and then inject it back into the affected area. The theory, in my situation, is that it may help alleviate pain and slow down the rate of my disease process - buy me more time before a total hip replacement is the only option. Hyaluronic acid acts as a lubricant for the joint, helping to reduce joint friction; hence pain. I think most people are familiar with cortisone. These injections consist of corticosteroids and are injected directly into the joint to provide effective pain relief. There is increasing evidence that cortisone injections can cause increased cartilage damage, causing the joint to deteriorate faster, so that's definitely something to consider. 

Given that they don't really know what the hell I have or what is causing my cartilage to degenerate in all of my weight bearing joints, it's a bit of a shot in the dark (see what I did there?), but what do I have to lose (other than about $3200 KYD - approximately $5400 CAD). This is not covered by my insurance, so I have to decide if it's worth it. I can think of a lot of things I'd rather spend the money on, but a part of me feels like I should try the PRP and maybe the hyaluronic acid; otherwise, I'll never know. That being said, I kinda feel like a really old car that requires a lot of maintenance. Like do you shell out the money for the top-of-the-line maintenance costs for a 1970 Buick LaSabre, knowing the engine needs to be replaced soon? Am I a junkyard car that we salvage for parts or am I a classic, distinctive automobile? For those of you who have followed my journey from the beginning, we quickly determined that if I was a racehorse, they would, without question, shoot me. 

 Aside: for my Canadian friends who have asked me about private health insurance, now that I no longer work for government, I pay for private health insurance. The monthly premium is $1000 KYD ($1700 CAD) - that's $12,000 KYD per year and covers me and Evan). This is considered a "middle ground" plan.  Some have inquired whether we pay more because I have a predisposed medical condition, but given that my condition is undiagnosed, we do not. This is what an insurance plan costs when you work in the Cayman private sector. With this coverage, I co-pay for most things. For example, my insurance might cover 80% of my MRI costs, and I pay the additional 20% out of pocket (which amounts to $500 KYD). My insurance covers $50 KYD of each one hour $180 KYD physio appointment (my Canadian physio friends are reading this mouth agape), and doctors' appointments range from $25 to $400, depending on bloodwork, X-rays, etc. I've never waited more than 2 weeks for a specialist appointment, and I have the freedom of choosing my own medical team, and surgery wait time is minimal - which to be honest, is priceless. But there are times when I feel like I'm spending hundreds of dollars a week to meet with medical professionals who aren't entirely sure what to do with me. Like maybe I'd rather just get a pedicure. 

I digress.

I'm back in pain management mode, suffering from daily pain that specifically impacts my ability to sit for more than 15-minute intervals. It's also waking me up in the night when I roll over. I struggle to get vertical a few times a week (which can be embarrassing and inconvenient) and am feeling bummed about it all. Each time I'm met with a new medical issue, I feel myself re-entering the cycle of grief. I am a grief cycle expert! I've noticed that I'm spending quite a bit of time in denial the last few times - "Oh, maybe I pulled a muscle" (Hello? Your hip is deteriorating). I also held out on seeking help for a while "I don't need my psych; I have the tools and can do this on my own!" (Dude, go talk to your lady. She makes you feel better). I think I'm moving past denial, given that last week and the upcoming weeks are filled with appointments with my professional team. I'm also experiencing moments of anger. Although I'm thankful for the short stint of fairy tale life, I'm pissed that the glass slipper fell off. I see lots of princesses dancing at the ball, how come I'm stuck hunched over the litter box in a non-vertical position? I always experience some sadness as well. I'm sad that my body is failing me, yet again. I feel sad for myself because I've been through so much and I don't feel like doing this again. I feel sad for Ev. I know it hurts him to see me in pain. Eventually I'll stroll into acceptance - maybe next week. It's exhausting.

Luckily, months ago we booked a weekend getaway - we must have known that we would need a quiet and calm retreat. Last weekend, we flew to Kingston, Jamaica, and enjoyed a chill weekend in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica, at a place we've visited a few times called Strawberry Hill.

Strawberry Hill is this charming, cottage-y type of resort way up high in the Blue Mountains, overlooking the city of Kingston. Bob Marley sought solace here after he survived an attempted assassination in 1976. So, I mean if Bob can recover from a near death by shooting, surely, I can feel calm and peaceful about this new development in my "journey", right? Sure. 

Strawberry Hill was exactly what we needed. I inhaled fresh mountain air, sipped wine while listening to three little birds singing from the tree-tops and the reggae music echoing off the hills. Although Ev and I did have some serious discussions about my next plan of attack, we mostly just hung out and felt happy. We explored the area, ate good food, laughed a lot, and enjoyed each other's company. There are still many glimmers in life to experience, despite the pain. So... you know, life is complicated, but it's good. 

Now I just need to develop a plan. My goal is to enjoy this summer at Candle Lake, minimizing the pain as much as possible.

Stay tuned for updates on the SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS shotshots SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS (did you sing it in your Lil Jon voice?)

Hanging in there: A Costa Rica adventure and Dilbert's DNA reveal

 Hi Friends!

Last we spoke, I was thoroughly enjoying my honeymoon phase of recovery. The great news is...I continue to float happily in what I refer to as a "holding pattern." My new hip is performing great. My not so good hip is hanging in there, my ankle seems to have settled, and Britknee is being Britknee...so all joints are currently doing their best. I feel good. I can honestly say that I'm present. I haven't been worrying about what's ahead of me, and my surgical night terrors are now a rare event. I've also started attending Pilates reformer classes, which have been so fun. It feels good to just do regular non-physio activities! I'm loving my job, and I've learned that a lot of my worries about health were specifically related to my job. I'm very happy with my decision to switch gears a year ago. 

I corresponded with a genetic team in Texas, and they require my full medical history in order to determine if they will take me on as a patient. I began the process of acquiring my medical records from 4 different hospitals in 3 different countries. OOF. I dived waaaay back into medical notes and emails from years ago, and it made me feel really uncomfortable. After reading multiple emails where I pleaded with doctors to take on my case and received MRI reports littered with bad f'n news, I turned off my computer, had a good cry, and decided to table it. I felt so sorry for that Kirstie. She went through some awful shit. That Kirstie had a lot of hope that things would just work out. She had no idea what was ahead of her.  I really have come a long way, and although it's good to recognize that, I'm not ready to go back there just yet. I've decided to pursue the medical records in the summer, when I can collect in person in Canada. I'm pretty sure that I want to find out what exactly is going on in my body, and maybe even look at prognosis; however, I'm kinda scared, and not ready to rock the boat on my honeymoon cruise at the moment. 

Speaking of honeymoon holidays, Ev and I recently returned from another wonderful Costa Rica adventure. 

There's something about Costa Rica that keeps pulling us back. Our first trip to Costa Rica took place 17 years ago, and despite it being 3 years after our wedding, we always considered it our honeymoon. (hockey got in the way post wedding!) We flew to Liberia, on the northwest coast, and spent most of our time learning how to surf in Tamarindo. It was incredible! Given that it was a special trip, I wondered if perhaps my love of the country stemmed from good memories (and YOUTH!) 

We went back to Costa Rica 2 years ago and felt the same good feelings. This time, Ev spent time on the Pacific coast in Jaco and then we rented a car and drove to La Fortuna, where we spent a fabulous week of adventure and relaxation with daily soaks in the hot springs, ziplining thousands of feet in the air, and ATV tours with incredible views of the volcano. (I highly recommend this location for a family holiday!)

Given that this was our third time to Costa Rica, we decided to explore the less inhabited, less developed Caribbean coast of the country. We landed in San Jose, rented a car and began our journey.

In Costa Rica, instead of greetings like "Good morning" or "Have a good day," locals say, "Pura Vida." This translates to "pure life." I've always thought this was a cool phrase, and looks great on t-shirts and hats; however, the more I experience Costa Rica, the more that I understand that Pura Vida is a way of life. My experience is that the people of Costa Rica value nature, family, friends, and happiness. Pura Vida is all about finding joy and contentment for life's simple joys. This is my interpretation, and I'm still learning, On this particular trip, Pura Vida (to me) felt like optimism and contentedness.  

Our first night in Costa Rica was Pura Vida at its finest. We traversed roads which were most definitely off the beaten track and, after few missteps (Um...we are now in a cow pasture?) arrived at a very special eco lodge near Turrialba. 

Our own little lodge for the night was perched on the edge of a valley, with incredible sights and sounds that would rival any relaxation sound machine! I awoke to a glorious view of the valley and the sounds of the rushing water from the river below, the crashing of the waterfall and the birds calling. As I stepped out of our lodge for a morning walk, I was immediately greeted by a family of goats who wander the valley side, keeping the grass manicured. Our accommodation was not fancy, and I wouldn't necessarily recommend for people with bug fears, but overall, it was memorable experience. 

Livin' on the edge!

What a way to wake up!

The next day we drove to Puerto Vjejo. Puerto Vjejo is located along the Caribbean coast of Costa Rica, amidst lush tropical landscapes and long stretches of beaches. 

Puerto Vjejo is a fun, chill place. It's difficult to compare to other spots, as it's very uniquely its own; however, it did remind me a bit of Sayulita (Mexico) circa 2010. It's a quaint little town on the beach with unique shops and restaurants. It was quiet during the day but livened up at night. We always have felt safe in Costa Rica, however, there were a few guys urging Ev, "Coke? Smoke?" in the evening hours. We never felt harassed or followed. I even overheard a tourist telling one of the guys, "I gave up weed 10 years ago and I've never felt better," to which the guy replied, "That's great. It's not good for you!" Haha. He might have to switch products! 

We stayed at a small boutique hotel on the beach near Puerto Vjejo for 3 nights. I loved our room. It was all open-air, with a wrap-around deck and ocean views. Although our bed had a mosquito net, we never had to use it because...um...where are the mosquitoes? Was it because we were there during non-rainy season? I'm not sure, but despite the fact that our entire room was open air, I did not hear or see one mosquito! 

The hotel was on a beach called Playa Negra, which translates to black beach. The sand was black and packed, which makes for difficult post-beach clean-up, but is very conducive to long beach walks for individuals with questionable metal joints. I really enjoyed the beach walks, as I find it difficult to beach walk in Cayman for more than 10-minutes due to the soft sand on my joints. 

Playa Negra was like doggie heaven. It appeared as though everyone had a dog! Dogs with collars ran freely, chasing frisbees in the sea, scampering with other dogs - it was a sight to see. One late afternoon around dusk, Ev and I sipped our sundowners, watching the dogs live their best life. I was thinking about the meaning of "Pura Vida," and couldn't help but think that this was it!

We spent an afternoon at the Jaguar Rescue Center, just 10 minutes down the road from our hotel. The Jaguar Rescue Center is a temporary or permanent home for sick, injured, or orphaned monkeys, sloths, birds, and reptiles. One reason many mammals are coming into the center is a result of increasing construction and expansion in the area. Many monkeys and sloths are mistaking power lines for tree-top vines, and suffering from electrocution. The center has round-the-clock veterinarians to provide medical care to these animals. Unfortunately, many animals do not survive or leave orphaned babies behind. The center works hard to rehabilitate the animals and then release them back into their home. Some of the animals sustain injuries that would make survival impossible in the wild. These animals have permanent homes at the sanctuary, which looks like a pretty awesome place to live!

Costa Rica has a strong legal framework to protect animals, which I love and support! For example, it is illegal to take a selfie with a wild animal in Costa Rica. Tourists (and I was guilty of this), love posing for pictures with "pet" monkeys or hug a sloth for a photo op at a resort. This is not nice for the animals, and they are often kept in poor conditions. One of the monkeys rescued at the Jaguar Rescue Center spent his first year of life in a tiny box, taken out only for meals and photos with tourists. Despite efforts to re-wild him, he's afraid of the big jungle, and no longer has the skills to survive in the wild. Thank goodness for the center to take him in as a permanent resident. Please don't pose for pictures with wild animals! (Or kidnap a baby wombat like the crazy influencer in Australia). 

We spent our last night "glamping" in the jungle. This was NOT a conventional hotel, and definitely my favorite experience of the trip.

We stayed in a Geodesic dome, which apparently is the same type of domes used by NASA (life on Mars, anyone?) We were perched about the ground amidst the trees, about a 3-minute walk from a beautiful long beach. Our dome had a deck, where we spent our evening. As Faith, the woman who created this eco heaven with her bare hands (literally cleared the land!), toured us around the property, she covered her head with her hands and warned, "The monkeys will throw fruit at you!" Sure enough, the treetops were scattered with spider monkeys, swinging from vine to vine, tossing objects at the ground. She also warned us not to be alarmed if we heard a chair moving on our deck, as a resident sloth likes to move furniture around (SLOWLY) during the night. This place was unreal! The howler monkeys woke me up at 5am, with their Jurassic Park T-Rex sounding call. I was in my glory, completely overstimulated by nature. What an experience! 

Costa Rica for the win...again! I think Costa Rica might be in our future cards - who knows? We would both love to spend more time there. 

In addition to a really nice getaway this month, Ev and I hosted a very special event... Dilbert's DNA reveal!

We don't really know anything about Dilbert's history, other than that he was found wandering the streets of West Bay with some other dogs (I picture a dog gang). He was unkempt, dirty and scraggly and very skittish. Unfortunately, dumping a puppy once he/she is no longer a cute puppy is a common issue here, and it was suspected that Dilbert was an abandoned 3-year-old dog, set free to fend for himself. 

This sad story hurts my heart, so I've decided, (with the help of Chat GPT), that Dilbert was a secret agent, trained in covert operations. The secret agent life wasn't for him (too many high-speed car chases, which explains his hatred of car rides); hence he decided to live undercover as a pet. I mean, look at his face...he KNOWS stuff. Haha. 

This is the face of someone who has been mistakenly added to a signal chat ;) 

Regardless, Dilbert's DNA results were quite surprising! We suspected that he had some Shih Tzu and Poodle in him, as this is what the Humane Society labeled him as. But we never suspected 6 breeds!

We hosted our island fam for a DNA reveal brunch, presenting them with various options to predict the breeds that make up Dilbert. We managed to incorporate some "betting" and were able to provide the Human Society with a donation of needed supplies. We had a scavenger hunt for the kiddos and popped quite a few bottles of bubbles - it was a super fun day!

No one was able to correctly guess all 6 of Dilbert's breeds; however, a few friends managed 3. 

Here are the results:

32% Shih Tzu - explains the stubborn nature, loyalty, and wicked underbite

28% Staffordshire Terrier - Surprise! Staffy's are known to be sensitive dogs, which explains Dilbert's sweet soul, and it also accounts for his musculature stature!

11% Lhasa Apso - This explains Dilbert's protective nature, weariness of strangers, and little white dog body

10% French Bulldog - This explains Dilbert's occasional defiance and couch potato tendencies

10% Pit Bull Terrier - Surprise! Dilbert's a little pittie! haha. This explains his athleticism! He is super fast and agile!

9% Mini Poodle - Aw... Dilbert's little curls!

I'm not sure exactly how accurate these results are, but we had so much fun sharing it with our buds, and celebrating our Dilbert, who brings so much joy into our lives! I'm a strong advocate of "silly fun" these days. I'm feeling good and want to celebrate my dog's heritage - what can I say?

That's the very long update. Thanks for hanging in there with me!

Cheers!

Hip Hop Hooray!

 Hey friends!

I feel good! Like really good. I feel bright, alert, and present. The only example I can liken it to is if you've just recovered from a really bad flu. Maybe you've spent the last 48 hours on a bathroom floor, or perhaps you've slept in a seated position for days due to a bad cough. You know that day when you wake up and suddenly feel better? You are filled with gratitude and joy. You want to shout, "Hey everybody! I digested solid food today!" or "Everybody come look at me, I'm out of bed and vertical!" A cold sip of water tastes like heaven when it touches your lips. The sunshine on your face fills you with warmth and happiness. I am alive. I conquered it. Yes! That's where I'm at. I'm in the honeymoon phase of recovery!

Just 2 honeymooners! ;) 

Firstly, the iron infusion was a game changer. HOLY COW, you guys! I was severely anemic, just kinda moving through life in a thick fog. I recall looking up and the scenery seemed to move around me, like the "Oh Canada" circle vision 360 at Epcot (If you know, you know). Almost every time I sat up quickly, my world went black for a few seconds before colors reappeared. Nothing about this sounds normal, yet I was like, "Ya no biggie, I'll just eat more raisins." There were not enough iron-rich raisins to save my severely low iron levels!

My insurance did not cover my iron infusion, which seems odd since it literally is life changing, but who am I to argue? I hummed and hawed a bit over the price, but DUDE, that was worth every penny. Speaking of pennies, my mouth tasted like I was licking pennies for about 48 hours after my infusion. I also felt very fatigued and flu-ish for a few days. The iron kicked in exactly 2 weeks to the hour of my infusion. I kid you not. I could actually pinpoint the moment at which I suddenly felt human again. I was sitting on the couch, drinking my tea, and I suddenly stood up (no black out!), threw my gym gear on and rode the bike for 30 minutes. Unreal. Iron infusion: 5 stars. Highly recommend. 

The other bit of great news is that Kira, my new hip, is thriving. My physiotherapist had prepared a 10-week rehab program (typical protocol for a hip replacement), and Kira smashed the goals at the 6-week mark. Now granted, the protocol is typically for aged 65+ folks, but hey, I'm taking that win! I worked really hard, following the exercise protocol to a "T." My physio labeled me an "expert patient," which immediately filled me with pride, until I looked it up and found that an "expert patient" is one who has significant knowledge of her disease and treatment in addition to self-management skills. I mean...I don't wish for anyone to become an "expert patient," but whatevs. I'll take another win. 

My physio has given me the green light to resume regular activity like lifting weights at the gym, doing my Kira Stokes workouts with my sandbell and bands, and even participating in a pilates reformer class! He did warn me that I might have a false sense of security, given that I feel so great this early in my recovery. The reality is, my hip is only 8-weeks old and isn't near healing completion, so...you know, proceed with caution. Got it. 

My Kira scar is quite neat and straight - I'm using scar-away daily. 

I have been proceeding with caution until my furry friend, Dilbert had other plans for me. Since I've been feeling better, I've resumed my Friday morning beach walks with Dilbert. Typically, once we arrive at Cemetery Beach, I remove Dilbert's leash and he walks obediently next me, taking the odd sniffing break at a bush. We then return to my towel where I do some meditation, Dilbert digs a hole in the sand, and we chill. Dilbert, however, hates leaving the beach. Like a sullen child, he refuses to leave until the leash is hooked onto his collar, and he is literally dragged away, leaving little doggie bum marks in the sand.  

On our first Friday morning beach day since the hip was installed, Dilbert was out of practice, wandering a little too far for my liking on our beach walk, but like the good boy he is, he returned with me to my towel and assisted with my meditation session. 

When I opened my eyes from my session, feeling so relaxed and grateful, I could see that the beach was filling up with tourists, donning their snorkel gear for a morning snorkel. I began shaking out my towel and placing items in my beach bag when Dilbert looked back and observed my actions. Dilbert began slowly trotting down the beach, away from me. 

"Dilbert." I said sternly. 

Like he had never heard of such a name, Dilbert blatantly ignored me and continued trotting, increasing his speed, down the beach. 

"Dilbert! Come!" I said, a little louder and much more sternly. 

Dilbert did not acknowledge my presence. Not one bit. "Who the F is Dilbert? Never heard of him. Don't know this lady," I'm sure he muttered under his breath. 

I could see that the tourists were turning away from their masks and fins to watch this production that was about to unfold. 

Dilbert then began running with great speed, away from me, down the beach.

"Dilbert!" I cried, "Get back here NOW." 

I looked ahead and could see a woman with a dog further down the beach. Dilbert is generally really good with other dogs, but I could understand how this woman might be a little frightened by a runaway dog headed in her direction.

So, I did what only one can do when your dog has disowned you and is running into what might be a dangerous situation. 

I ran. 

Not a word of a lie. I ran. 

I think that might be the first time I've legitimately "run" in like 13 years? 

Feet sinking into the deep sand, Dilbert's leash dangling at my side, I ran past all the tourists, now watching with great interest. 

The only thing louder than the shrillness of my voice screaming, "Dilbert!" was the sound of my metal joints CLINKING and CLANKING along that beach. 

Like the scene from Forrest Gump, I pictured my body stripping metal parts from Courtknee, Britknee, and Kira. Metal screws and hinges fell to the sand as I ran and ran. "Clunk. Clunk."

The people were now invested, yelling, "Dilbert! Stop!"

I even heard one man comment, "Dilbert! What a great name for a dog."

White furry ears blowing in the wind, wet black nose pointed forward, Dilbert did not look back for one second. His old wild wild West Bay instincts possessed him to run and run and run...and run. 

When the beach finally gave way to iron shore rock, Dilbert had no choice but to stop. Both of us panting with exhaustion, I secured him with my leash, readjusted my parts back into my bikini, and then proceeded to do the walk of shame down the beach. 

"Dilbert! you bad dog!" shouted one woman. 

"I feel him. I don't want to leave the beach either!" commented one man. 

I angrily picked up my sandy, salty dog and very gently tossed him into the backseat of the Jeep. 

Our first official fight. Not bad after 2 years.

He feels shame.

Stevie would NEVER run away (She can't scale the fence...yet). 

But...You guys! I ran! I actually ran. It was the opposite of a "Baywatch" running montage, and might have been more of a hobble wobble, but whatevs. It's kind of a monumental moment for me. 

Aside: Running on the beach is not an approved activity 7-weeks post hip replacement, just FYI. 

So... things are good. 

In the past, my "honeymoon phase" was often accompanied by increased anxiety and fear, wondering if and when this phase was going to end...and how it would end.  I wrestled with hope thinking, "I really hope that was my last surgery." I pleaded with the cartilage gods, "Please let this be the last joint." I questioned, "Which joint is next?" That anxiety of the unknown often interfered with my ability to fully embrace the bliss. This time is different.

I know that I will need to have my other hip replaced. My ankle is swollen and unhappy, which may be signs of early cartilage degeneration. This seems to be the pattern with whatever is going on in my body. There are more surgeries in my future. In the wise words of Baba, "So be it."  I do need more answers, and I am currently communicating with a genetic research team in the US who may be able to take me on as a patient. We shall see. But for once, instead of fearing what's coming next, I'm just relishing in this feeling that I'm currently experiencing. Let the records show that I feel strong, healthy, and happy. 

So, cheers to that!

Aside: Why do we have to feel really really bad to fully embrace the good? Do we need to endure shit to make the sweet that much sweeter? This is a deep thought for another blog post ;)

Regardless, Cheers!