Having been raised by a strong and stubborn Mum makes me reluctant to gear this solely towards men. It's a stereotype that men in general avoid treatment for injury and illness. These traits transcend gender stereotypes. We've all heard "rub some dirt on it and walk it off" or similar statements but is this always sound advice? Is our pride really that helpful to our situation?
Pain was behind the impetus that made me change. An ER trip due to localized swelling among other things led me to believe I had a blood clot in my lower left leg. It was that trip that led to the discovery that I was over 550 lbs. I knew I had to change or die but how could I work through the pain I was in? When I ran out of excuses I found a way to move in the water and the transformation was underway.
During the initial months of pool movements I incorporated some weight resistance training. My range of motion was LIMITED to say the least but I was determined to improve. With the weights came delayed onset muscle soreness (DOMS). Having briefly played baseball and football as kid I was able to identify DOMS and knew when to work through it. my confidence was high as my endorphin levels were on the rise!
With that confidence came the urge to re-live some former band glory days. When a long time friend's new band booked a show in town I decided to call the old (no offense gang!) band members to see if we wanted to reunite and open the show. We were all in favor so I booked the show. About a week and a half before the show something happened that had me fearing for my life- the symptoms of a blood clot returned worse than ever and I could barely walk!
Having no insurance I decided to bite the bullet and go to the ER. Knowing how serious the condition was I knew I couldn't afford to be too stubborn or proud to get help. For the first time in years I was at a point where I actually wanted to live and somewhat ENJOYED life! The visit yielded the diagnosis of deep vein thrombosis, a follow up with a specialist was scheduled. Dread overcame me and I feared the worst.
My first words to the specialist were "when can I go back to working out?" I was terrified that losing a wheel would lead to a major backslide in progress. After another sonogram it was discovered that not only was there NO blood clot but my circulation, blood pressure, and resting pulse seemed to be GOOD! There was however a diagnosis of chronic vein disease (CVD). The scars and spotting of pooled blood and a once weeping wound still remain but my skin was healing. As a result I now have to wear compression stockings every day which are roughly $80 a pair. The doctor saw my previous weight and congratulated me on my accomplishments, added that it was stasis dermatitis, and cleared me to return to the pool immediately! At the time of the concert I was still in pain but managed to pull of the set on my own two feet- after all, the show must go on.
The second injury came about on the leg press machine. As my range of motion and strength returned so did the inflammation of my ego. The machines at the gym were programmed to measure the range of each rep to ensure proper form. This of course was calculated with about 150 lbs. There is a phenomenon that happens when you change the sled from 150 lbs to the 415 lb max, it's called spinal compression. The added load changed the range just enough to make me miss my complete rep mark by a few centimeters. What good was maxing a machine if I couldn't have recorded proof?
Stupid macho me decided to shuffle the max weight at the end of the rep and hyper-extended my knees in lockout to hit the rep. At the bottom of the next rep I felt an INTENSE sharp pain and decided to stop and hit the showers. I was again mortified at the possibility of having to scale back. Having injured the same knee with a torn quad in high school the worst was feared. After a call to my friend and brother in iron, Ultimate Russell, I calmed down and decided to scale back and listen to my body. In under two weeks I was back to normal, and decided to not use the automated rep counter on that machine ever again.
The latest injury, pardon the pun, really chaffed my arse. About a week ago I was doing a WOD that included a lot of Abmat sit ups. These include placing a mat near the tailbone to help extension and form to maximize the outcome of the movement and help isolate the abs. Since the box is covered in gym mat flooring I just did my sit-ups on the floor. When I got home and hit the shower I shrieked in pain, my arse felt like it was on FIRE! I knew I'd chaffed it raw so I thoroughly dried the area and applied some antibiotic salve for good measure. I'm a tough guy and nobody needs to know that I'm a tender ass, right?
A few WODs later more Abmat sit ups came up. I asked my coach if there was a way to avoid repeating the error and he suggested using another pad for the movement. This seemed to burn less but there was still some fire down below! No big deal, I'm a tough guy and a little "diaper rash" ain't going to slow me down. At least that's what I thought until now.
I noticed a growing lump near the cleft of my butt check. Butt cheek...but cheek, are you done laughing at me now? lol. The next morning I noticed some blood in the back of my boxer briefs and decided that maybe I should inspect the area. The lump had grown, the area appeared bruised, swollen, and SORE! It was too high and outside to be a hemorrhoid. A pilonidal cyst perhaps? Since I had not been out drinking the day before on St. Pat's and woke up in bed alone I knew that it had to be a case of CrossFit butt gone bad.
Google, Web MD, and Facebook friends openness helped me determine that I should go get it looked about sooner rather than later so I headed to the ER. Here's what was going through my mind along with the image of my purple swollen butt cheek- "Please don't let there be a cute nurse, please don't be a cute nurse..." Sure enough, cute physicians assistant. With a Ned Beatty like shame I dropped my jeans and spread 'em wide.What she saw apparently warranted a peek by two doctors, another PA, and a different cuter female nurse. Normally I'm all about the jokes but I just wanted to erase the image from all their minds. Now the scenario is in yours, my gift to my readers!
The doc said it was good that I came in when I did as the infection was spreading and readying to spread to deeper tissue levels. He was able to somewhat numb the area before lancing it. Let me tell you, the lancing didn't tickle! After about a half hour of laying prone and pants down while it drained I was ready to go home. The final nurse, having drawn the short straw I presume, was sent in to pack the wound and discharge me. So I have to take a couple days off while things clear up. So what, I'm a tough guy. A real tender ass wouldn't have shared this trauma, would he? The only shame would be in quitting. If there is one thing I hate more than the loser it would be the quitter. Private Pyle is both and Private Pyle must die.
My suggestion to you all is to not allow your pride to impede your progress. Be proactive with your health. Symptoms ignored for the sake of hitting a number or proving how tough you are may come back to bite you in a rather uncomfortable place. Until next time keep moving ever forward one step beyond!
To help erase the images I tried to paint I've posted some cute puppy photos to enjoy courtesy of internet web searches. No credit claimed for the photos on my part.
JW
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