Just Keep Swimming

I never actually learned how to swim or passed the high school swim test in America because of my SLAP tear. I was one of the few with a legitimate reason not to take the swim test, hehe.

Learning how to swim is one of my goals in the next month. Actually - learning how to tread is my goal. Technically I can already swim, just very poorly. I don't know why I'm having so much trouble learning how to tread. My multi-limb coordination is actually very terrible.

Paddle, kick and breathe? Okay I can do that....oops...uh oh....sinking!sinking!!Sin-blubblubblub

I have no idea how I managed to wrestle for two years with such terrible coordination.

I'm practicing my breast stroke. It was going well until I started getting tired. Really tired. Good thing rec swim was over. Did not know swimming was that difficult. You'd think running 3 miles on a daily basis and doing a lot of lunges, squats, and other leg work outs would help - NOPE!

I've also realized my nose is useless. My nose can't exhale underwater if my life depended on it. Stupid nose.

Since I'm planning to swim regularly now, I have to cut back on my weight-lifting for the time being to make sure I don't wear out my shoulder too quickly. The arm motions involved in swimming still makes me nervous  because my shoulder was so screwed up for so many years.

Fitness

My hope is that if I make a list of things to do here, I'll actually go and get them done and avoid suffering the humiliation of being a bum-who-doesn't-follow-through.

I decided against running in the Tough Mudder race  at this time. I know one group of friends running it in July, but I'll be uninsured this summer and I have enough sports injuries as it is to risk doing an obstacle-course/marathon without insurance. I plan to run half of the San Francisco Marathon though. My friend's brother, who works as a personal trainer and nutrition specialist at a gym, will be leading a training workshop starting next week.

Now that I'm sitting here and thinking about it, I don't know if I can run 12 miles at an average pace of 10 minute per mile. The great thing about this marathon is that there will be a pacing team I can follow for free - I'll need it. The running workshop will be good for me, too. On the bright side, the second-to-last mile is mostly downhill and the final mile is flat. Woohoo!

This past week, I've been pretty good about going to the gym regularly. I'm happy with my progress this week, after a month of being sedentary at home/on planes/eating airport food. I'm able to go three miles on a treadmill at a 10-minute pace, which is up from struggling to hit the 2-mile mark last Sunday. I also spend about 30-45 minutes lifting weights each time, although I admit I slow down considerably after the 30-minute mark.

I split my upper body routine over two days, otherwise I'll be at the gym for over two hours (including waiting for people to finish their stuff). Free weights, except for the rowing exercise, because the proportion of most of the machines don't work for my size. Arms: incline and flat dumbbell (the little weights, not the big bar) bench press, shoulder press, bent over lateral rows, bicep curls, flat dumbbell flies, rowing, and front and lateral raises. I just realized I've been missing a few exercises in my routine because I've been too tired after I finish those. Oops. I also have to be careful with a lot of them, in the interest of not screwing up my shoulder. For legs and core, I do squats, deadlifts and lunges. I need to expand on my core-body workouts though.

I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never be petite and slim like the vast majority of young Asian girls; I'll just be petite and stocky. It used to be a point of insecurity with me, but then I realized that it creates unhealthy perceptions of weight and body image. Hence my current fascination with building muscle. I don't really want to be beefy though...just proportionally fit!

Being a Patient is No Fun. Pt 2

A few weeks ago, I ended up in the E.R. with a dislocated shoulder due to a torn left labrum.  Anterior, I think.  I wasn't sure if describing my experience there constitutes whining, and I didn't really want to write a blog post chock-full of whining...but it was an interesting experience nonetheless and worth retelling if only so I remember it for myself later down the line.

Different E.R visits lead to different experiences based on several factors - understaffed/overloaded, number of patients and what their health issues are, the hospital's location, and the overall personality of the staff, just to name a few.

Regardless, being a patient sucks, and I can't imagine what it must be like for people with serious illnesses that need extended hospital care.  I felt powerless going into the E.R., even though I've been to one before (maybe it's because this time, I felt like it hurt a lot more).  I didn't want to be touched and I didn't want to be pitied either.  I felt the pressure of several years of guilt too - the knowledge that if I had quit wrestling at the first sign of trouble, maybe I wouldn't have had to gone through all this.  I felt anger - if the first specialist I went to had asked for an MRI, maybe I would have found out sooner how serious this was and quit.

I refused to let anyone help me out of my jacket - I did it myself, inch by inch.  She was nice and understanding about it, and I'm thankful she indulged me.  I fought the doc every step of the way though.  Something about her attitude or tone of voice rubbed me the wrong way.  I found her condescending and it made me feel like I was being treated like a kid who didn't want to go to school.  She planned to use the Stimson maneuver, which involves laying face down with the injured shoulder dangling perpendicular to the bed.  She would then attach four saline bags (roughly 10lbs) and let gravity do most of the work.  I know it's an accepted procedure that is coincidentally less violent than other methods, but it sounds ridiculous to this day.  I remember a previous dislocation where the doc and a med student used a combination of scapular manipulation external arm rotation (while I sat upright) to reduce the shoulder and it was totally, undeniably pain-free and took about 1 minute without any meds.  I tried to explain this to the doc, but for whatever reason - whether she was unfamiliar or uncomfortable with that method or if it posed a greater risk to me that she did not explain - she refused.

It took time for them to coax me into a prone position, and then another several minutes for a nurse to gently move my arm to a 90-degree forward flexion.  After that, they gave me an intramuscular shot of Ativan, which hurt AND didn't kick in until AFTER I left the E.R., and I was left to force myself to relax and spasm in pain until a P.A. came to manipulate the scapula.  Feeling your own shoulder slip into place is one part gross (listening to things slide into place) and one part relief.  Muscles that you didn't know were tensed suddenly relax and you can breathe.

I don't know if I was being a difficult patient or not.  IMO, I think the person two curtain-cubicles down was a difficult patient (until they restrained him).  Even though I was familiar with my condition, knew her treatment plan was going to work, and know what it's like to work with doctors, I still didn't want to trust her.  It's a very primal response, not subject to reason.  I'm just glad the doc went and found a nurse instead. The nurse was much nicer and more soothing.  She let me move at my own pace, which also helped.

I'll remember this incident as an important lesson in communication and patience. Someone who is sick or injured, in pain, and confused (and not under the influence of illegal substances) won't trust someone just because he/she has an M.D.  I'll try to remember it even when I'm underslept and overworked.

After that, I wasn't feeling tired and didn't want to go home just to mope around, so I asked my mom to drop me off at my friend's joint-sibling birthday party.   I wore a sling and was just starting to feel the Ativan kick in.  I have very vague memories of that night, because of the Ativan.  I remember sitting in her little brother's jumpy house, being bounced up and down while my friends jumped around and being very mellow.

Being a Patient is No Fun Pt.1

I miss the simpler days when I only ever had to go to a pediatrician when I was sick. All I had to do was sit on the bed, let him examine my throat and ears and I was done and out the door with a nifty sticker.

I went to the ER today for a dislocated shoulder...As someone who is interested in becoming a doctor, I thought I should blog about it, even if it's only a reminder to my future self that hey, being a patient for any reason can be scary and frustrating. Before I explain the whole ER trip, here's some back-story on my recurring injury:

Due to being on the wrestling team, I tore my left labrum which I vaguely recall my doctor referring to as a Bankart Lesion. The first doctor I went to assumed I was just loose-jointed and needed time to grow out of it. We sought a second opinion. Dr. M informed us that I had a torn labrum and he recommended surgery.

My parents weren't too thrilled. They grew up with the mentality that surgery isn't always a solution and harbored the hope that I could live with the injury. They kept hoping (wrongly) that the tear would heal itself, or if we pursued alternative methods, we could strengthen the muscles and ligaments around the shoulder joint. I grew up in a very bicultural home, so I learned about the merits of Eastern Medicine, but I didn't think anything could be done for my shoulder short of surgery.

We argued about it constantly. When I turned 18, I chose not to pursue the surgery option behind their back. It seemed wrong to go behind my parents like that and I wanted their support (or my own job and my own insurance plan).

Finally, years years later, I found Dr. A who is an orthopedic surgeon and specializes in shoulders. I'm not sure why my parents finally made the turn around..it may have been that they finally realized my shoulder wasn't getting any better. In the years between meeting Dr. M and Dr. A, my shoulder would dislocated at the worst times, always when I'm doing something ridiculous and have my guard down: like taking off my jacket/closing the door with my left hand/ sleeping and unconsciously moving into a bad position.

I'm scheduled for surgery on Sept 7 at long last. Dr. A uses some type of plastic anchors instead of stainless steel (which my parents disliked). She's been very kind to explain AND diagram for me and my parents how the procedure would go.

Unfortunately, my shoulder couldn't wait another month and it dislocated itself today...ironically as I was taking my coat off. My next post on this topic will be about my adventures in and out of the ER :(