Physical Therapy Begins

Posted on January 11, 2010 by Steve Foster

I started physical therapy last week at the same place my wife went after her knee surgery a year and a half ago. (I guess we are getting old when we start sharing physical therapists.)

I didn’t know what to expect but I was ready to begin. With a six month recovery time, the sooner the better.

The therapist is very good. She is personable and has the right balance between pushing you and being gentle with you. I need that balance.

The swelling in my left ankle

The swelling in my left ankle

She began by measuring the swelling in my ankle. The swelling is very noticeable particularly around the Achilles. To increase mobility, the swelling (and the scar tissue around the incision site) has to be one of the primary issues to address.

I am amazed at the amount of fluid around my shin and ankle. It is particularly noticeable after I take off my hi-tech moon boot (aka walking boot). Little bulges of fluid are all around my leg. The first time I noticed this I freaked out. I have heard so much about the danger of blood clots that I worried that these little bulges could be indications of clots. But thankfully the bulges disappeared after a few hours.

Therapy begins with fifteen minutes of heat around my ankle. It feels great. I spend this time lying on my back and relaxing. It is a perfect time to pray, reflect, and rest. It is so hard for me to do this in normal, every day life. I get distracted too easily or start thinking that I need to get up and do something. However, as part of therapy, I find myself just focusing on the moment and enjoying it. I hope I can replicate this more and more in my “real life.”

Heat is followed by infrared light therapy and then a massage of the lower calf and the area around my Achilles. The area around my heel is not sensitive or painful and the stimulation around the incision site feels great.

The heat and the massage are obviously the best parts of therapy.

Next comes the exercises. This is where things get “less fun.”

First I slowly flex my foot up and down thirty times, then side to side thirty times. During the first therapy session, my flexibility was minimal to none. Today (my third session) I could tell a big difference. Not that I am anywhere close to normal but I can definitely see improvement.

After this, I take a towel and pull the top of my foot toward me, stretching the Achilles in 30 second intervals five times. The exercises are not necessarily painful. Everything just feels incredibly tight and even the slightest movement takes a lot of effort. I also feel at times that my Achilles could “pop” which is not something I want to happen again. The therapist assures me that it won’t. I am taking her at her word.

I work on “foot circles” next. With my legs hanging off the table, I rotate (or try to rotate) my foot thirty times clockwise and then thirty times counter-clockwise. Today I also worked on a BAPS board which was not too fun. I really feel the tightness in my Achilles as I rotate my foot on this board.

On Friday, the therapist put a towel on the floor, had me place my foot on it, and then told me to work on scrunching up the towel with my foot. Ha! I sat there and stared at my toes for over a minute. I could move my toes up but I had no ability to curl my toes downward to grasp the towel. It was frustrating to be totally unable to do a simple exercise. My brain was communicating to my foot but my foot was saying, “Are you kidding me?” After six weeks off, my foot muscles are not ready to go back to work just yet.

My moon boot (aka walking boot)

My moon boot (aka walking boot)

The final exercise is in my walking boot. Using my crutches, I walk back and forth across the room trying to put more and more weight on my foot. The first day I put very little weight on my foot. Today I found that I could go heel to toe with a lot more weight on my foot and little less discomfort.

The session ends with my foot elevated in an ice pack with electro stimulation for about fifteen minutes.

Usually I try to relax and pray during this time but today the TV was blaring with Judge Judy. I find that hearing adults argue over petty disputes and Judge Judy yell, “Shut up!” is not conducive to rest and relaxation. I guess it reflects the challenge of all of life…trying to find God’s peace in the midst of life’s stresses, disputes, and arguments. Even when the spirit desires God’s rest, the noise of the world is constantly seeking to interrupt. It truly takes discipline to be a disciple.

Lord willing, I will be able to walk without the use of crutches in a week or two. I am eager to get my mobility back, even if it is with an enormous moon boot (actually it reminds me a lot of a ski boot).

I will not take walking for granted ever again. I understand now why “the lame leap for joy” when they are healed by Christ’s power (Isaiah 35:6; Acts 3:1-11).

Posted in Achilles Rupture | Tagged | 1 Comment

Atrophy

Posted on January 7, 2010 by Steve Foster

The cast came off yesterday. After six weeks of being in a cast, I was ready for the next stage…the walking boot.

I wasn’t sure what to expect at the doctor’s office. My sister-in-law had told me that they use a small circular saw to cut off the cast. That didn’t sound too comforting. I was always taught not to stick body parts underneath a circular saw.

Cutting off the cast

Cutting off the cast

Sure enough once I got into the doctor’s office, the first thing I noticed was a small circular saw connected to a vacuum cleaner. Unique combination. “Saw off your leg and suck up the blood,” I thought.

Actually the blade was rather small and the nurse assured me that it is designed only to cut the cast and not the skin. Not sure how they do that but I trusted her. But then she said, “Whatever you do, don’t pull your leg away from me.” Hmmm… let’s see…this won’t cut you, but just in case it does, don’t pull away or it will cut you worse. I was apprehensive again.

But the process wasn’t bad. It took about 3-4 minutes and the only thing that irritated me was the noise.

Once the cast was cut, she used a small crowbar to snap it apart.

I was curious to see my left leg.

There was not much left to see.

The effects of atrophy

The effects of atrophy

I now know firsthand what atrophy is. Six weeks of inactivity had reduced my leg to bone, skin, and a piece of flab that I assume was once my calf muscle. My skin was dry and cracked. As I rubbed it, skin and hair came off in my hands. Lovely. I am glad my wife didn’t marry me for my legs.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I saw my leg. I did know one thing…the road to recovery was going to be very long.

The doctor examined the incision site and felt the tendon. Afterward I was fitted with a walking boot. It was set at a ten degree decline to take pressure off the tendon. I was told to keep the boot on whenever I was walking or standing. I could take it off while resting, sleeping, or taking a shower. That was nice to hear. I was also told to start putting weight on my foot with the boot on. Sounded easy enough.

Then the doctor left.

When I stood up, I thought I would give walking a try. After all, it is a walking boot. As soon as I put full weight on my foot, I shot of pain went up my calf…or the piece of flab that was once my calf. I immediately realized that even putting weight on my foot would be a challenge. Walking would have to come much later.

Atrophy. Seven weeks ago I was walking, running, jumping. I wasn’t in great physical shape but I was able to do pretty much anything I wanted. One split second…one snapped tendon…changed everything. Now I can’t even flex my foot much less walk.

In six weeks, every muscle and tendon associated with walking withered away. That’s not long when you think about. Don’t use a muscle in six weeks and it’s pretty much gone.

It’s a good reminder that what is true in the physical realm is also true in the spiritual. Drift away from the Lord. Stop reading His Word. Stop praying. Stop going to church. Stop caring. Pretty soon you are further down the road than you could ever imagine. You are weaker. You are uninterested in church. You start rationalizing, excusing, doubting, faltering. Walking with the Lord has become impossible….though you still think you are fine.

Train yourself to be godly… (1 Timothy 4:7).

You have to use your spiritual muscles every day or they will wither away.

Posted in Achilles Rupture | Tagged | 2 Comments

Lamott, Politics, and Grace

Posted on January 2, 2010 by Steve Foster

Sitting on the recliner recovering from an Achilles rupture affords me ample time to read. One book I picked up recently was Anne Lamott's Grace Eventually: Thoughts on Faith. I have never read one of her books before. I picked this one up at Barnes & Noble because it was "Bargain Priced," looked interesting, and had grace in the title. My favorite word.

Anne Lamott is a self-described progressive, feminist Christian. Her background is on the other end of the spectrum from my own. She grew up with atheistic parents dipped in liberal political causes and spent the early years of her life in the sexually-free, nature-loving hippie movement. I, on the other hand, grew up with church-going, Republican, pro-Reagan, parents and spent the early years of my life memorizing verses for VBS and being good. I am also male.

So it was interesting reading someone approaching Jesus, grace, spirituality, politics, and life from a totally different angle.

Lamott is honest and sees the mundane aspects of life in a sort of Seinfeld-ish way. Walking her dog leads to moments of insight. Vacationing with rich, self-absorbed friends spurs blunt feelings of jealousy and indignation. Raising her son as a single parent reveals her inadequacy and provides stories of classic parent-child conflicts. Feeling overweight and under-beautiful plague her even as she realizes their unimportance.

Yet through all of life's ups and downs Lamott tries to show love to others and see through the eyes of grace.

Except when she talks about George Bush. The best she can do for Bush is try not to hate him…though she seems to enjoy failing in this attempt…over and over.

Lamott is enamored with politics and political issues which in some sense surprises me. Right wing Christians are usually the ones blasted for being so politically involved and narrow-minded. In the end, I guess the issue, for both right and left, is not political involvement but political involvement that one disagrees with.

Ironically one of my favorite quotes by Lamott (though I can't say that I know of any other ones by her) is "You can safely assume that you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do." I wonder if she sees the irony of this statement in her own political animosity.

But I like Lamott. I like her honesty. I like the way she writes. I like her dependence on grace. Even though I struggle to understand her perspective and wonder how much she grasps God's holiness.

Reading Lamott reminds me that there is such a fine line between grace and license. Yes, we all fall short. Yes, we are all sinners. Yes, we are all inadequate, broken, desperate for mercy. We are prodigal sons running from our Father and finding ourselves alone in the pig sties of life. But grace is not permission to stay there but rather freedom to leave, to return home…without condemnation.

I fear that in Lamott's effort to avoid being a Pharisee (in a legalistic black and white world), she swings the pendulum so far that she becomes a Gnostic (in an ambiguous, nebulous, always gray world).

Reading Lamott reminded me that the Christian life really is like walking a tight rope. Between legalism and libertarianism. Between certainty and mystery. Between soberness and joy. Between discipline and grace.

And in politics it is learning to walk between left and right. Or perhaps "above left and right."

When Jesus entered the world, He also entered into a political hotbed. Pharisees. Sadducees. Herodians. Zealots. He disappointed and angered all of them. To the Pharisees, he was too liberal, hanging out too much with sinners and tax collectors. To the Sadducees, he was way too conservative, preaching holiness, judgment and the righteousness of God. To the Herodians, he was a threat to the status quo. To the Zealots, he was too peaceful and accommodating to the status quo. In the end, no one in the political realm liked Jesus. He didn't fit any label. He didn't endorse anyone's agenda…except God's. And for that, He was crucified.

I wish I knew exactly what that meant in living in America…today…in 2010…with Obama as president…with national health care on the political horizon.

I struggle to live in that tension between being a citizen of heaven and a resident of earth, between being involved in politics (which affects so many lives) and being focused on the gospel of grace (which is the hope of all lives).

Reading Lamott helped some. It reminded me of that simple saying, "Don't judge another person until you walk a mile in their shoes." Since I don't know Lamott's heart and I haven't lived her experiences, I have to approach her with humility and grace. Just like I would any other person…swift to hear, slow to speak, and slow to anger (James 1:19).

That is incarnation. That is what Jesus did in entering our world. He did not deny His identity or lose His holiness, but He came in humility…He came to serve…He came to sympathize…and He came to save.

And those open to grace…and eager to change…received Him.

Whether they grew up as a hippie or a "saint."

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Anxiety

Posted on January 1, 2010 by Steve Foster

It is the start of a new year so I should probably be talking about something else but I woke up to ESPN and another news report on Urban Meyer.

If you are not familiar with Urban Meyer, he is the head football coach for the University of Florida. He led the Florida Gators to two national championships and several SEC championships. He is one of the top coaches in college football. Yet earlier in the week, he announced his resignation from coaching due to health concerns. Later, he retracted his resignation and instead took a leave of absence. The flip-flop made the news even bigger and led to further information about Meyer’s health issues. A 911 call from his wife was released (I guess this is public information) in which you hear her trying to rouse her husband who is lying motionless on the floor with an apparent anxiety attack and/or heart issue. Meyer later acknowledged that his health issues stem from anxiety and “carrying too much on his shoulders.”

I read an online article about it at a sports website. Below the article people are allowed to comment. It was interesting and disheartening to read people’s comments. Several people took the opportunity to air their hatred for Meyer and his football team or mock his condition. For instance, “Baaa haha. Am I the only one who LOL’d at this? Probably trying to cry after that beat down he received at the hands of Alabama.” Sad. I wonder why people feel the need to comment when they really have nothing to add to the conversation.

I find myself drawn to Meyer’s story because I have felt the sting of anxiety. During one of the most stressful years of my life, I had several panic attacks and several doctor visits to check on my heart. Life felt out of control. People did not seem safe. I wanted to escape. I prayed for peace but peace seemed far away. I knew the answers but I couldn’t gain a grip on my emotions. I felt powerless, like a failure. “What’s wrong with me?” was the constant question in my mind.

Once you’ve been through that valley, you don’t forget it. And you don’t fully escape it. The memory sticks with you. You know you are vulnerable. Sort of like a recovering alcoholic who knows he could fall again at any time.

Here is what I have learned since that time…

Anxiety is rooted in fear, insecurity. We all have insecurity in our hearts. The first emotion felt by Adam and Eve after falling away from God was fear. Vulnerability. Mortality. We are not in control. Of course, we each respond differently to this inner fear. Some numb it, suppress it, try to escape it through self-gratification, distraction, addiction, ambition. Some become angry and bitter. They mask weakness with the false power of indignation against life, the world, others. Some feel the stress of anxiety and struggle with fear, depression, or panic.

Anxiety is fed by expectations. We feel the expectations of others. People pleasers don’t want to disappoint. They desire the approval of others. But there is no way that everyone can be satisfied…no matter how hard one tries. We also put expectations on ourselves. Perfectionists tend to feel this pressure. They don’t want to fail. They strive for a standard they rarely can meet and cannot sustain. The more success we have (especially early on in life), the more success we have to maintain, attain. The pressure is endless. No victory is ever enough. Eventually the body cracks.

I pray for Urban Meyer. Personally I don’t think his leave of absence will work. If he is already planning his return in the fall, then he has put a timetable on himself. Conquering anxiety is not something that can be done on a time schedule. In fact, the time schedule may add to it. Plus now the public eye will be on him. Or at least he will feel it. Every emotional crack he shows will be pointed out, reported on, analyzed, magnified. The nature of college sports today will not help him. Winning is the expectation. No championship is ever enough. And fans want a dominant team not a sensitive coach.

Meyer can’t change the nature of college sports but he can slowly begin the process of changing himself. Anxiety is a gift if it forces us to confront ourselves, acknowledge our fears and false gods, and find security in God alone.

Heelcatcher is the name of this blog for a reason. Jacob is my biblical mentor. In Genesis 32, Jacob confronted the biggest fear of his life. Everything he loved was threatened. The possibility of losing all he held dear laid before his eyes. In his extreme anxiety, he literally wrestled with God all night. And only in his weakness did he learn to hold onto God alone. God had to cripple him to bless him.

God cripples us to bless us. Sounds contradictory, strange, unloving. But it is true.

Our self will is strong. We are deluded with a false sense of our own strength. We hold onto things to make us feel secure, accepted, competent, important. Success, financial security, climbing the ladder, wealth, health, social status, admiration from others, public office, public speaking, a trophy spouse, model kids, sexual conquests, sports championships. Whatever it is, it does not last and it does not let us rest.

It is often when we reach the end of the rope that we find hope. It is when we run out of our own resources that we find the true source of strength.

The apostle Paul elaborated on this paradox in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10. In the midst of fighting against an infirmity that hindered his ministry, Paul begged God for relief, for deliverance.

But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

If our greatest need is God, if our biggest problem is pride and self-will, if our greatest danger is forsaking God and losing His joy and peace forever, then the most gracious thing that He can do is to humble us, cripple us, break us, expose our weakness and vulnerability, and draw us to Himself.

Indeed, the God of power showed the way, becoming weak, being born as a baby, living as a servant, suffering as a Lamb, dying on the cross, in order to conquer sin, disarm death, relieve fear, and bring us life.

So if I had the chance to speak to Urban Meyer, I would tell him not to rush things, not to miss this opportunity to learn about himself and hear from God, not to find his identity in being a successful football coach, to be careful of temporary solutions that mask the problem rather than solve it, to let go if need be. There are bigger things in life than winning a football trophy and pleasing fans. Most of all, I would encourage him to hold onto God, embrace grace, and trust in Christ.

“My grace is sufficient for you.” Grace is the only real antidote for anxiety. Grace. You don’t measure up. You can’t measure up. But in Christ God offers forgiveness, redemption, freedom, love. It is not something we earn; it is something we receive. It is not about doing more but resting more in Him.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light. (Matthew 11:28-30)

We come to Christ as Savior to receive rest for our souls. We follow Him as Lord to find rest day by day and experience it more and more in our lives.

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Time & Nostalgia

Posted on December 30, 2009 by Steve Foster

Last night I met some old friends from high school. It had been 20+ years since we last interacted. Twenty years. Hard to believe. Time moves so quickly.

I am finding that turning 40 has increased my desire to connect with the past. I am not sure why. Perhaps it is a growing realization of the brevity of life. The faster life moves, the more you want to hold onto something, slow it down, go back in time. Memories become your only link to younger days.

I visit my hometown once a year. Each year things change. Driving through town, I notice the new businesses, the abandoned buildings, the changing landscape.

Today I passed the area where my family used to live when I was five or six years old. The area is overgrown. All the houses are gone. You would never know that it was once a thriving little neighborhood with a community pool, nearby baseball fields, and a little fast food diner called the “Safari.”

I can still picture it in my mind. I have snippets of memories…several of them as clear as a mental videotape. Yet looking at the present reality, no one would ever know. I can only describe it to my wife and kids. I don’t even have pictures to provide a context. The memory is all I have.

That’s why getting together with old friends can be so interesting. Someone else relives the memory with you. They add frames to forgotten scenes. They bring a different camera angle. Add color. And they help you connect the past to the present.

Last night I heard what happened to many people I haven’t seen since high school. Jobs, marriages, kids, divorces, deaths. My mind was swimming trying to remember faces and names.

120 of us shared four years together in high school. In fact, many of us went through all twelve years of school together. In a small town, your lives overlap in so many ways. School, Little League, church, city park, football games, community events.

We shared so much time together that I felt like I should have known them better. But I don’t. I guess as a child you are too busy playing to think about relationships. And in high school, you are just trying to survive the insecurities of growing up and trying to find your place in the elaborate social strata of teenage cliques to really get to know someone beyond the surface level.

I find that nostalgia is a double-edged sword. You enjoy the memory but then find yourself melancholy in the end.

I was curious about the meaning of nostalgia. It literally means “severe homesickness.” Interesting. It is a longing for home. A desire for simpler days. A hunger for the security, relationship, and joy of a family. I guess high school is sort of like a family. You hang around each other all the time but, in the end, often don’t know each other very well.

Or nostalgia may be a longing for something even greater, something we really can’t describe, something eternal. Something that lasts.

The Bible says that we have “eternity in our hearts” (Ecclesiastes 3:11). There is a part of us that longs to stand outside time, to stop it, or at least put the brakes on. We want to capture time, experience eternity, return to Eden. Yet time in this world keeps relentlessly marching forward. Indifferent to us. Things change, aging happens, people die…whether we like it or not.

That’s why one of the oldest psalms in the Bible has a simple prayer: Lord, teach us to number our days that we may get a heart of wisdom (Psalm 90:12).

Wisdom is recognizing the brevity of life. It is knowing that time is short and making the most of every opportunity. It is not letting relationships slip past. It is not wasting energy and years in sin (which always promises more than it delivers). It is not holding onto bitterness. It is not ignoring God.

God loans us time. It is not ours to keep. We only have it for a moment. What we do with it is up to us.

The best thing as a Christian is knowing that “home” is not in the past. It is in the future. What we long for is not in this world but prepared for the next. We can’t go back to Eden but we can move forward toward it.

Our hope is in Christ who is the same yesterday, today, and forever (Hebrews 13:8). He entered time so that we could hold onto something, Someone, outside of time.

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