Ode to a lioness

This wasn’t what I planned. My new Times of Israel blog was supposed to be about Paralympic sports, insights and interesting angles of the wonderful world of adaptive and competitive sports, about classifications, history, and inside information on the hows and whos of the Paralympic World.

I had it all figured out, with a very attractive list, at least I think it is, of topics to write about – from the unprecedented Dutch dominance in women’s wheelchair tennis, to the reasons why London 2012 were the best Games ever; from that night out in Beijing after my partner and I won our silver medal, to the politics of wheelchair basketball classification.

I promise I will get back at it, but meanwhile, while my life has taken an unexpected detour to the rollercoaster of sudden spinal collapse, surgery, and rehabilitation, I might as well write about that.

It has been three weeks since my emergency surgery, and I officially went into rehab today, which will be a daily rotation between physiotherapy, occupational therapy, swimming and even mindfulness and breathing. I’m now learning to live again after I was rewarded another round. I know this hospital – Loewenstein Rehabilitation Hospital – very well. We visit here every other week with our team, to recruit new athletes for our parasports programs and introduce them to the amazing opportunities it offers. That is probably the reason I get that – “Wait, aren’t you….” from the rehab physios, nurses and docs.

Yes I am. You’re used to seeing me here, just on the other “side.”

So while I’m at it, I want to talk a little bit about rehabilitation. More specifically, I want to talk about successful rehabilitation, and even more specifically, I want to talk about the four pillars of successful rehabilitation – the four essentials for any rehabilitation journey to be successful. This list is based on my own experience and the experiences of hundreds of others I get to walk alongside of as part of my work for the Israel ParaSport Center.

If you paid attention, you noticed I used the word journey.

Well, yes, introducing pillar number 1: Curb your expectations.

Rehabilitation is not a process, where you enter on one side, do all kind of things, and then exit on the other side, rehabilitated. Rather, it’s a journey. The first day is the day you were injured, the last day is your last day. Some days are good, some days are not. You may have little or big achievements along the way, and you may improve significantly at times. But it’s a lifetime journey. Your body will always need maintenance and if you want to preserve function, you will have to work it.

Always.

Forever.

I have a friend, who was injured during his army service over 30 years ago and was left paralyzed. He plays wheelchair table tennis and always says that living with a disability is a full-time job. He is right but he is underestimating: It’s not just a full-time job, it’s also a lifelong mission.

Speaking of friends brings us to pillar number 2: Find your community.

Rehabilitation can be a very lonely journey. You may be surrounded by many people – your occupational therapist, your physiotherapist, your doctors, and your nurses, maybe also by some of your old friends and coworkers. But no one, trust me, no one, can replace that guy who is in the same situation as you. That’s the guy who just nods when you tell him you have a bladder infection again. He’s been there. He, or she, is also that person who will give you the best advice, who will know where the most accessible bar is and what to do if you’ve really gotta go on an airplane (there are ways). Find that one guy or girl, and if possible, find more. Adaptive sports offers the best community for this in my opinion, but maybe I’m just biased.

Airplanes we said? Perfect. Because pillar number 3 is: Take a vacation.

Now that it’s been established that rehab is a lifelong journey, it is also important to remember to take a break. Nothing bad will happen if after three months of hard work you take a two week break and do absolutely nothing or, better yet, you spend a holiday on a sunny beach. Sure, physio is important, but a pool side ice cold margarita can sometimes do more. And it doesn’t even have to be that. You can also just feel that you have had it and you need a break, and that is absolutely fine. Take breaks. Take as many as you feel necessary. And then go back at it like a lion.

Or a lioness.

Which is my fourth pillar: My lioness wife, Shirley.

The one who gives me my dose of vitamin D in the morning and drives me to the hospital. The one who listens to me bitch and complain, and helps me put a pillow under my sore neck. Shirley is my unwavering support, my anchor in this stormy sea of uncertainty. She embodies the very essence of what it means to be a partner in both health and adversity.

So here’s to the unsung heroes of our journeys – to those who stand by us not only in our triumphs but also in our moments of vulnerability. While we get all the credit (“Oh, you’re so inspirational!”), they are the quiet pillars holding us up, so often without recognition.

And my blessing to you is that you, too, should have someone by your side as you journey through your own rehabilitation.