“I Want You to Push This," My Doctor Said

“But what about my left leg going numb the last time I danced?"

I used to do this for a living.

Technically I do now too - as a dancer educator and choreographer and director - but I used to do JUST this for a living.

I loved training; teaching fitness classes, and learning the ins and outs of feeling outside our body in a good way.

I earned my Certified Personal Trainer accreditations when my eldest daughter was just a few months old.

I spent most of my time alone in a farmhouse back then; a long drive away from my parents… mourning friends who didn’t expect a young-mom in their midst so soon… unsure of anything other than my utter devotion to this little person in the world.

I was so proud of my certifications in nutrition and fitness at that time. How hard it was to study for it while holding a new baby on my hip, alone for most of the daytime, just she and I.

My primary friend back then was Leslie Sansone. My Mom got me her 5 Days A Week DVD (“remember DVDs?”) from Target one time, and I would wake up each day and meet her, with baby in my arms and sleeping peacefully by my side, and take just 10 to 15 minutes to see someone smiling at me. To pretend I was walking “with her”.

(To this day, my favorite workouts are still Leslie.)

Perhaps it was that that inspired me to become a CPT back then, or just my history in dance (which I didn’t really fall in love with until many years later), but either way: I started to study and took the test.

I was so proud of my contract writing jobs then too. I worked for Walmart, and Livestrong (Lance Armstrongs website), and American Greetings, and plenty more- and often, miss the feeling of doing so, since I know I still would be fully capable in terms of devotion to being a journalist. The only problem is: The hours it takes to get a piece “right” for an editor and pump out copy is completely different from that of this safe arena here, in Substack land, and thus… My spine, surely (sorely?) would not compute with the what the computer would demand.

And that very thought sometimes (many times) breaks my heart.

But, I worked as a small town personal trainer with local Mom friends, and the YMCA, and pushing into houses with clients that felt like best friends, and I worked hard at freelance writing in any moment that my infant was asleep (which wasn’t very often, let’s be honest).

Eventually, it became a blooming blog business that paid bills and saved the day more times than I could count.

Now… I get embarrassed about that past. I’m not sure why. I think the negative terrors happening underneath the surface back then? My past is something I run from… even though the only cardio I prefer is 10 minutes with Leslie Sansone.

But the accomplishments of those days? The small-town, new mom moments I cringe about now? I should have been proud of my Lorelei-isms.

Am I proud of this here? This footage attached to these words? This was the first week of trying to “workout” again after my most recent surgery, but before the one I just had (stay with me now).

I knew I was going to have an operation a couple of weeks, and I knew (know) I had (have) many more after that for awhile. It’s the winter of finding my small town, new mom hustle; Pushing through something lonely and difficult to try to find the Bright Side of something.

I thought about not working out at all because, “What’s the point?” (“I’m having surgery in a couple of weeks and will have to start over again”)… But this time- for the first time in a long time, really- I didn’t let myself.

So, here are the three measly days of a hamster who’s been caged for too long, getting her first dose of physical endorphin- just two weeks after having two discs in her cervical spine replaced.

“I want you to keep moving forward,” my doctor had said just days before, “This isn’t like the huge fusion we did this winter when you couldn’t move. When you had to let it fuse - and parts are still fusing. This is something we need you to keep mobile. You have to push those joints.”

“That’s exactly what I want to hear,” I told him, thinking about the PT-plan I had designs for myself the night before, something I’ve always done with every surgery because I can’t help myself.

“I want you to push this.”

My partner looked at me with a warning-tone in his eyes, knowing full well that when doctors give me permissions, I run wild on adrenaline.

“But what about my left leg going numb the last time I danced? I taught dance camp for a week, and lost feeling in my foot for awhile. It super freaked me out,” I said.

“All the more reason for you to push this,” he said, in reply, “If you start doing things again and get moving, you’ll be able to know pretty quickly if we need to do a nerve test to see if it’s getting pinched when you move at certain angles.”

And so… I did.

I could only manage 3 days in the first week with everything going on in our life, but that felt triumphant compared to the 0 days my body was telling me to do.

And… I didn’t feel numb after all 3 days.

Then, I sat down to write for a very long day of catching up on emails and work… and about halfway through sitting at a right angle, my left foot started to lose feeling completely. (I’m always in pain when I sit, so that can’t be a warning signal for me or I’d never sit. So, I was truly surprised by the swiftness of it.)

Do I regret any of it? The sitting = always. The movement = almost never.

I feel a lot like the young mom in a lonely little farm house these days, even though I’ll be starting my own “PT plan” again soon enough, after this new surgery and then another. (I can’t afford weekly physical therapy, so I continue to do my own.)

Looking back on the things I used to be proud of, and should have been more proud to say… I see the sadness of that pride too.

I see how every time I felt a gilded bird, I searched for body systems to feel safe in again.

These days, my body feels a cage in new ways.

I’m terrified of hurting what’s been operated on so often, knowing it’s likely going to be again and again, and knowing that sometimes I have to “push it” just to test if something is actually worse. And, whenever the going gets okay… the good gets older.

I’m sick of the cycle of rebuild, re-injure, repeat.

Is anyone else?

I’m sick of the Sick.

They say “doing a little bit consistently as much as possible is better than too much, rarely”…. so I’ve played hard to get with my body and my mind; Tried to always leave myself wanting more when “working out”.

Undershooting, on purpose, is against the typical ballet mindset… But I’m relearning my body as it is now.

Doing just the 10 minutes here and the 15 minutes there… 3 days of imperfection, instead of 5 of Too Much….

IS the primary way to reconnect with what once was, what wants to be, what could be again.

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