24 April 2012

Attack of the Dive-Bombing Pelicans

19 April 2012

The Ill Street Blues

Surfing generally makes me smile and puts me in a good mood. But this has not been the case of late. It's not that anything about the surf has changed. I am the problem.

I am surfing in pain.

I don't mean I have an ache here and there. I mean real pain. I mean pain that makes me hobble out of the water. I mean pain that I can't ignore.

I am in pain.

Now, this is not anything about which to be concerned. Of course, I've been hurting enough to start the "woe is me" chorus. My right hip is a mess. I've been worried that the pain meant I would soon need a hip replacement. My bionic knee hurts too. And, of course, the ankle is the source of much pain.

My shit hurts.

I did quite a few days wallowing in the world of "woe is me". I was certain that all of the parts that hurt were something about which I should be gravely concerned. I even convinced myself, for a day or two, that the recovery from the knee replacement was easier than the recovery from the broken ankle. Then I came to my senses, remembering that I did, in fact, suffer from horrible hip pain after the knee replacement. Back then, I did worry about needing a hip replacement. I also had an IT band issue that was so bad that I was only able to find relief with seriously painful deep tissue massage. I conveniently forgot that, huh?

That's how I knew I was tripping.

I will get through this. My stoke will return. My hip will stop hurting. My knee won't be complaining. My ankle will do what I ask of it and be pain-free.

In the meantime, though, I bide my time while I wait for my stoke to return. Pain has a way of stealing stoke, I think. Stoke also goes into hiding when too many "professionals" offer too many differing opinions about rehabbing this ankle. I've had too many people essentially talking over one another, too many people thinking they know what's best for me.

At this point, I'm sticking with the doctor. Although he tried to quit me awhile back, he's stayed in touch. I don't know if he told me to start surfing because he knew it was what I needed or if it was because he knew it was what my ankle needed. A nurse friend, who's a surfer, told me today that he thought it great the doctor told me to surf, saying it was best to get this joint moving now even though doing so is painful.

Four screws and a plate with a side of bad attitude.

This, too, shall pass.

13 April 2012

My Neighbors Will Soon Look Like These Two

12 April 2012

I've Been Busy

It's hard to stay completely stoked when you're still in pain on a daily basis. I'm still in a battle against the scar tissue, working hard to regain complete range of motion in the ankle. At this point, I'm not sure whether I'm winning or losing. I do know that it hurts. With that said, I've followed the doctor's orders. I've surfed when I could. Out of the three sessions I've had since returning to the water, I spent two of them trying to ignore the pain. The third? Well, that one was magic. The pain was minimal and I surfed like my old self.

The ankle continues to ache. I'm sure the rainy weather doesn't help with that. The fact that I do what I do doesn't help either. Today, I find myself not wanting to do much of anything. There is the pool, yes, but the pool bores me to tears. I could go walk in the soft sand at the beach, but that no longer taxes the ankle. There will be no surfing until the water is clean. I do not, and will not, surf after it rains. Period.

So, here I am, speaking basic Italian out loud and wondering how best to learn to tune a drumkit. I have no idea how to spell the Italian sentences I've learned. And I'll be damned if I don't confuse some Italian words for Spanish words. Why am I trying to learn a little Italian? I work in a small office with three Italians, two Russians and one other American. Our company works only for Italian companies. I hear Italian on a daily basis. As a result, I thought learning some Italian might be good for my brain and mind-blowing for my co-workers. I mean, how many black folks in America are going to walk up to you and just start speaking in your native tongue? The looks on their faces are priceless with a capital "P".

As for the drums, I haven't started disturbing the neighbors yet.

But I will.

05 April 2012

And Hurt it Did!!

Neither the screws nor the plate were harmed in the surfing of this session.

When The Shit tells you to go surf, you go surf. Interestingly enough, I happened to see him today. He was walking down the street to his car. He was happy to hear that I'd paddled out this morning. Guess what? He wants me to surf again tomorrow. He wants me surfing as much as possible! He's of the belief that the surfing and the wading out through the shorepound will do a number on the scar tissue.

I guess that means I'll be back in the water tomorrow!!

03 April 2012

File Under: "Move Along—Nothing to See Here"

I'm tired of the pool.

I'm sick of walking in the soft sand.

I no longer want to deal with pool therapy.

So, today, I strapped on some fins and rode my mat. Just because.

Yes, my ankle hurts now. Scar tissue has a way of temporarily paying you back for making it close up shop.

My surgeon called me today, interestingly enough, a few hours after I'd returned from the beach. He told me to start surfing. I told him the ankle still hurts when I try to pop-up. He would have none of it. He directed me to get back on a board, saying the pop-ups and other things that stress the ankle would help me rid the joint of even more scar tissue.

I guess that means I will probably start surfing again soon.

Even if it hurts.

02 April 2012

Speaking of Paipo Fever . . .

this came into the house on the same day that the painting did.

I've got a fever and the only prescription is . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .


01 April 2012

Color Me at a Loss for Words

I had the best day I've had in a long time. I swear, it felt like Christmas day. One of the highlights involved the painting pictured above. The friend who painted it brought it over today. When I'd first seen the painting, entitled The Letting Go Process, I'd told her that I could totally relate to it and that I really loved it.

What happened next? She said I could have it! I was speechless. I keep looking over at it as I type this. I love this piece.

And that was only one of the wonderful things that happened today.

I think I'm going to like April.