I am always thankful for the people who have supported my decision to go through surgery, grateful to those who offered their company, their valet services, their words of encouragement and their personal experiences. I recall how convenient it was for someone to shed all responsibilities through this supposed difficult time of my life, but I look at the dear ones around me and I thank God for all of you.
This week marked my first consultation with the surgeon and my last physio session (before operation) with the therapist. My diagnosis looked a little more positive than the last time – I have achieved nearly full range of knee movement and am ready for surgery anytime – it is up to me now. What will be done on me will be a straightforward single/double ACL graft from my hamstring…it seemed pretty simple enough as the surgeon sat me through a technical breakdown of what will happen during surgery.
Funny how they give you assuring results, they tell you the more optimistic outcome of what you’ll expect of post-surgery. Funny how they do not mention the excruciating pain that hits you when the morphine wears off, funny how they never told you how frustrating it would be to be to depend on crutches. But of course, that’s a doctor’s job – to answer and banish away these fears of mine so that I go in without a single worry.
I’m finally allowed to run on the treadmill today.
Putting in work at the gym almost everyday became a habit, and a mentally desperate race to lose as much as possible (to allow room to grow during my stagnant days), to build up as much leg muscles as possible (because I’m gonna lose them all again). They are right when they say, “Focus on improving – you’ll feel better this way.” The wakeboarders who have shared their personal experience with me reminded me that rehab is gonna be a tough one, and I mentally prepare myself everyday for the uphill road ahead.
It is a bittersweet feeling when the physiotherapist pronounced me ready for quads strengthening, running…everything that doesn’t require me to pivot. That little step suddenly seemed like an achievement, a sign that all the gym work is paying off.
Time has broken down into weeks for me. Week 1 to the big O. Week 2 to the big O…week 1 after O, 3 months after O, 6 months and I see the sea again.
Of course, there’s the damn diet – I’m admitting in the open that I am concerned about losing shape, not fitting into my skinnies and growing flabby. Oh the scares! But well – if you do visit, just prepare salads…they’ll be greatly appreciated 
