Joint (ad)Ventures

Sandra Butel beautywalk coaching St. Marys hip replacement surgery transformation love grief yoga Fiji McAlpine — *The adventure begins* Photo by Sandra Butel

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk.

beautywalk is my scramble of two steps forward and one step back as I move ever closer to the complex truth of who I am. A human being full of contradictions just trying to make sense of the world.

Late night Q&A

It was a late night last night trying to come to terms with my upcoming total hip replacement surgery. Hours flew by with questions asked and answered with an unending supply of questions rising up in their stead to replace them.

A picture starts to form of what my post surgery future has in store for me. Toilet seat with arms, sock puller, grabber, high chair, walker, cane, tub side riser, ice packs and elasticized shoe laces are amongst the items that I make a note of needing to purchase (after I figure out just exactly what they are and where they can be found).

Why, why why?

Questions spin in my head about what to expect and how to prepare myself for what is coming. There are also the more honest queries that point more towards figuring out just “Why the hell would someone choose to put their mind, body and spirits through such trauma?” I keep thinking of all the people I know who have had the surgery and how motivated they were by the promise of an end to the excruciating pain they had been experiencing for long enough that they just couldn’t take it anymore. Grown men who weeped in the surgeon’s office, hoping against hope to be moved closer up to the top of the wait list as they just didn’t know how they were going to survive one more minute of the pain that had become their constant companion. One of my friends even considered the option of spending a large sum of money and travelling to Germany so that he could get it done and move on with his life in a way that wasn’t overshadowed by pain and discomfort. This is not the case for me. I have discomfort and my mobility has become increasingly more limited, but I do not have pain as the motivator that will push me through the next months of recovery.

One article I read talked about 6 to 8 inch scars and I can just picture the cut mark and its ruining one of what some have referred to in the not so distant past as my ‘gorgeous’ legs. There is so much confusing information to be found and no rabbit hole investigation would be complete without some truly alarming stories of people who were no longer able to do the things they had heretofore taken for granted. As the hours grow in their level of darkness I realize that I am looking for understanding and that ‘aha’ moment where doubt becomes surety. I am searching wildly for the moment where the idea of subjecting my body to the surgeon’s knife becomes just another day at the office.

2:22 am

I start to imagine a future without the mind and body balancing practice of yoga. I imagine myself turning to alcohol and recreational drugs and maybe having to get myself back onto the SSRIs that I worked so hard to ween myself off of last year. I type a few more questions into the query bar and open article after article that pop up when the words yoga, after a hip replacement come together. A glance at the clock to my right brings me to the “that is enough now, Sandra,” part of my adventure; the 2:22 seeming symbolically significant in some as of yet unknown way. I toss and turn, heavy sigh after heavy sigh and somehow I manage to fall asleep, alarm set to wake me up early enough to prepare for my pre-op appointment.

Pre-Op

When the time comes it is with some last minute confusion. I receive a call from the hospital two hours before my scheduled time asking me if I am still coming. Somehow, the time I wrote in my calendar did not match the time that the surgeon’s office had noted in theirs. No big deal I tell myself as Francis and I rush off in the backseat of an Uber to see what we will see when we get there. It all ends up being pretty routine with a visit with a doctor, a nurse, a technician for x-rays and another for blood tests coupled with lots of sitting around and waiting before a visit to a physiotherapist rounds out the 1/2 day.

Salt water rinse

It is all becoming a lot more real now and it is with some surprise that I realize that I am feeling a mixture of relief, incredible fatigue and a deep, deep sadness that is causing salty water to flow almost non stop from my eyes. I know that I am not alone in going through this and even consider reaching out once again to friends and acquaintances who have had this experience before me. This logical and deep seated need for connection gets pushed aside for another bout of “Why me?” And “What did I do to deserve this?”

Why me? What did I do to deserve this?

I know it has something to do with genetics and given that my Mom also had a severe case of osteoarthritis in her hip (like me) as well as some in her spinal column (unlike me I hope), there is reason to believe that this is just the beginning. Bigger, fatter and saltier than usual tears fall down my cheeks as my voice squeaks out my brain’s best guestimation of the hell that now awaits me. “I’m scared,” I admit to my life partner, Francis, cuddled up on the couch beside me.

Magical thinking

I bristle when he rushes to bring logic and reason into this moment where my normally hopeful heart is breaking. I would do anything right now for this to not be happening; negotiating with the current state of things with some magical thinking that sees me whisked away on a winged white horse to a land where the twitch of a kind witch’s nose is all it takes to move past the pain to healing. I picture myself stretched out in the most blissful of yoga poses, having just succeeded in completing each and every one of the more difficult maneuvers that my arthritic hip has for the last few years been preventing. Rainbows scatter throughout the crystalline sky and I can see the pure white horn of my own personal unicorn gleaming off in the verdant green of the valley that stretches out beneath me.

Can I jump ahead to the end of this particular chapter; scanning the gist of it as I hasten to put the pages (and the pain) all behind me? Can I be put into a dreamlike slumber like a modern day Sleeping Beauty, awakening to the brush of soft lips of my true love as he calls me back (my hip all healed and my muscles recovered) to waking? Mail order drugs and a self induced alternate reality might bring me closer to the kind of bypass that I am seeking.

And then what?

Asking for help

I put the question to my friend and fellow coach Fiji as we reconnect for my turn at being coached by her. She smiles as I tell her my story, although I don’t go into the fantasy part in any detail, I do tell her that I am feeling very sad and that I am likely going to be doing a lot of crying during our time together. She nods her head in recognition and asks me if there is a way I can stop adding more weight to the swing of the energetic pendulum that I am currently caught up in. Instead of adding on my judgments and preferences to the supposed ups and downs of my life, what if I just decide to leave room to be with the experience? What if I was able to just see this swing as part of my reality and take on a “no big deal” attitude about whatever is going to come as a result of my upcoming surgery?

Wallowing in it (just a bit)

I nod my head, all of this sounding familiar and like a lofty goal for me to reach. “Yes I would love to be able to do that, but before I can get there I have to figure out what to do about the sadness and ‘why me’ feelings that I am having.”

We both agree that what I am experiencing is grieving and that ignoring negative feelings won’t make them pass more quickly. Her eyes twinkle with mischievousness as she asks me, “What would it feel like if you were to let yourself wallow in it for a week?” A smile reaches my cheeks and I say, “Probably pretty damn good if I could let myself believe that I deserved that kind of freedom from being productive.” I consider the current state of our apartment, the piles of clothes on the floor, the books and pens and dishes scattered on top of the bed clothes beside me and I imagine how nasty it will all be in one week’s time. I shrug my shoulders and figure, well at least Francis is out of town and won’t be around to see it.

Interlude of ugly crying set to music

The future result of this suggestion is long hours spent in bubble baths and making puzzles with a soundtrack of artists whose songs I manage to sing along to even while ugly crying, a few hours of weepy TV and a general sense of loosening of the heaviness that I have been feeling.

Time is an illusion

Considering some of the hard times of my life, I agree with Fiji’s next insight that our ideas about time and how difficult it will be in its passing and the reality of how the time actually passes are two very different things. We think that we are not going to be able to survive the current difficulty, believing that it is going to last an eternity, but when we look back it all seems like it passed quite quickly. On the topic of what kind of yoga I will be able to practice in the future Fiji (who is also a beloved yoga teacher) kindly reminds me that my practice is always changing and that my job has always been, and will continue to be, to adapt to the changes as they come. I am surprised by how much relief I feel at this statement and I am grateful for the courage I had to share my less than perfect self with this beautiful human. Yes, my practice will continue. It might not look the same as it did before, but it will continue - it is too important for me to give up that easily.

We talk about what is to come and the deeper why of it still has me reeling. Fiji asks me what the purpose of the surgery is and I reply, “I want to be able to walk, to travel, to do yoga.” It sounds pretty simple when I say it out loud and I find myself adding, “I want to really take responsibility for my future self, by providing the support I need to be able to keep moving with as much ease as possible.”

It’s about love

My heart swells as I realize that I am doing this out of love. Love for the self that I had previously pushed to the impossible limits of perfectionism to prove to me she was worthy. Fiji’s head bobs up and down in agreement as she quips, “You are living by design instead of by default and as such you have to participate in all the steps to getting from here to there.” She is on a roll now and adds, “You have to keep making choices that will move you toward where you want to go even when you are feeling afraid.” I nod in agreement, knowing that the self that I am today has more than proven that she is capable of that kind of motion.

Fiji’s last statement to me really gets me thinking. She shares the concept of Dr. John Demartini in which the master lives in the world of transformation instead of in the world of loss and gain. To the master there is no such thing as loss and gain as these two concepts are just part of faulty human thinking. “So, Sandra, here you are in a space in your life where you are a master transitioning from one way of being to another. You are not losing anything in the process but rather becoming the next version of the self we already know and love so well.”

Pain opens the heart

I have lived through some pretty painful times in my life; times where my eyes and heart were focused on all that I was losing and I was working very hard to figure out what there was to be gained.

But this duality does not reflect the truth of it for me anymore.

When pain came it was transformational. I took what happened to me and I adapted. I found ways to take what I had learned and use it to become a more wholehearted version of the person I was before. I came out the other side more human, less delusional, less avoidant, less sure of having control over any of what was going to happen. In the aftermath of pain so great I thought it meant the end of me, I am happy to report that I am full of love for who I’ve become.

There is beauty here

So here I am, my fantasy escape plan receding, my pen on paper, Indian black print scarf of blue and green and white and Burnt Sienna around my shoulders; a reminder to the part of me that is afraid of what is to come that there is beauty here in this moment. I take a deep breath and wonder what impact the replacement of damaged bone with a shiny new piece of metal, ceramic and plastic will have on my future self.

May my vulnerability offer strength, my doubt and fears bring head nods and heart openings of understanding, as I look out at the robin’s egg blue of the cloudless sky outside my window and rejoice in the vastness of the space that is offered up to all of us each and every new day.

May you find a way to do the same.

I am Sandra Butel and this is my beautywalk. What’s yours?

What if you were willing to leave room for your sadness and grief and let yourself wallow in it for a while?

What stories are you telling yourself that are making things harder for you than they need to be?

What if there were no losses or gains to measure but only the offer of ongoing transformation?

What small slivers of beauty can you find in the world around you even when times are tough?

Resources for Further Study and Personal Growth

I am here with my never-ending search for truth, my human heart and my Professional Coach Certification (PCC) from the International Coaching Federation to be of assistance to you in your own journey of finding your own place of equilibrium. I have over 500 hours of experience working with clients and am sure that the time we spend together will bring immense value to us both.

For a free consultation with me all you have to do is book yourself into my calendar. We will spend some time getting to know one another and by the end of the 75 minutes it will be clear if a coaching relationship with me is what is needed in your life right now. There is no pressure here to buy, simply an offer from someone who has been through a whole lot of challenges and come out the other side. A little stronger, a little more humble, a little more ready to lend an ear.

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