A year and a half ago I was in three times a week rehearsals
for The Nutcracker. It was a small production of the dance academy I was taking
classes in, with teenage girls in high school and college. I did not care, and
they did not care that I was almost twenty years older than them… we shared the
same love for dancing and the same passion of the heart.
The rehearsals took about two hours and I was simultaneously
taking ballet technique and pointe classes almost daily, combined with a few of
jazz and contemporary classes. I was over the moon, admired by how quickly my
technique was improving, how much more confident I felt doing double and triple
pirouettes and jumping from corner to corner doing grand jetes as the ballerinas
I had admired for my whole life.
Until one day, warming up for my class I started feeling my
back stiffer than usual and looked for the right angles and positions, but it
never felt ok that Thursday afternoon. Friday was my day off and I had a hard
time walking on my way to visit my brother and could not bear to carry my one
year old nephew. Saturday morning, I could not get out of bed and I knew
immediately that something was really really wrong.
I tried not to freak out, and decided to pay for an MRI of my
lower back not covered by my insurance so I could get the results ASAP, and
when I finally got them one week later, it was just a confirmation of what I
was already fearing deep down, I had herniated a lumbar disc, and the damage
was so bad (85% of it was pinching the nerves on my spine) that the pain would
not subside in any position, day or night.
Due to insurance policies and bureaucracy, I spent 6 months
enduring chronic pain while struggling to get tests, specialist diagnostics and
making long lines and endless phone calls trying to push every single
appointment closer than what had been assigned. It was an agonizing process… I
finally had a very elusive authorization for a surgery that required my two
vertebras to be fused and a recovery time I knew was going to be longer than I
would have wanted.
It was a test to my strength. I was physically, mentally and
spiritually challenged. I went through all the phases a very active person
faces when injured: I was extremely mad, upset and disappointed for what my
body had done to me, I felt as if it had let me down and did not understand why
me! I was depressed for a while, thinking why all my hard work, discipline and
dedication had ended in such a sudden and sad way, and finally, little by
little, I started looking for the answers within myself, instead of pointing
fingers and feeling like the victim.
I went through a very deep introspection time, in which I
realized my body had not let me down. I had abused of it and had not heard its
signs when it had whispered, talked and finally yelled compelling me to stop
and listen. I had trained hard but not smart. I was not giving it enough time
to recover from sessions and I was pushing it to its limits in every single
class.
It was hard to be in pain 24/7 for six months. I exiled my
husband to the sofa because I needed the space to be able to move and turn
constantly as I would never feel comfortable during the night. I was sleeping 3 to 4 hours every night, waking up every hour to change positions. My husband or
my mom had to be with me all the time, since I needed help to do the simplest
things. I could not drive my car, load the groceries or push the grocery cart.
I went from working out 20 or more hours a week to struggle to walk around the
block.
I learned during that time that I was resilient. That I
could be positive throughout it all, that I could and would work with what I
had and that I would not give up. I tumbled, I tripped, I kneeled, but I always
stood up and kept going. I am proud of the inner strength I found and I am also
proud of the spiritual side of me that woke up.
I became more aware of my blessings, I was grateful for the
small gifts of nature and life and I believed that I would be better and that I
would dance again one day, and that when that day came I would savor and enjoy
every second of it and that I would take care of my wise body.
My must humble moment came a week before my surgery was
scheduled. I was barely hanging in there, trying to take as little medication
as I could, since its long term side effects had been grueling for my digestive
system. I was counting the hours to the day I would be free from pain again,
when I received a dreaded phone call. My surgery was postponed because my
surgeon was on vacation. ON VACATION!!! I was beyond myself… I could not
believe I had to endure other 15 days not sleeping and living as I was, it felt as
if I was a marionette and my strings had just been cut loose… the rug under my
feet was pulled and I just broke down. I screamed, cried and yelled in frustration
feeling I truly could not take it anymore! I cried until my tears dried and sobbed
until my voice faltered, and in that moment I knew I had to be strong. I did not
have another option. If this was happening to me was because there was a lesson
I still had not learned. I was not alone
and there was a reason for every single thing that was happening. I stood up
and went for a very long walk; I dug deep and found a light in my heart that
convinced me I was strong enough. That I could do it.
I finally had my surgery performed by my very tanned and
well rested neurosurgeon and the recovery and rehabilitation process was very
slow. I spent the first 10 days in bed not able to move without agonizing pain
and little by little gained my strength back.
In a month I was already walking up and down the stairs and
my doctor was amazed by my speedy recovery and positive attitude, I thanked him
for performing such a great job, knowing that I had prayed seconds before being
sedated the words my mom had told me before entering to surgery: God’s hands will work through him, and
miracles will happen.
That was seven months ago already and this month I got back
to my first ballet class after surgery. The moment I stepped into my new studio
(I also changed countries and turned my life upside down during this recovery
time) I felt right back at home.
My heart began singing the moment I put my leotard again and
stood in front of the barre performing the demi plie sequence. I am filled with
joy and gratefulness for my healthy reinforced back, for the opportunity to be
back doing what I love the most and for the amazing teacher that understands my
needs and modifies the exercises so I can perform them as safely as possible.
I love every cell of my body, how well it works and heals
and how kind it has been for giving me a second chance to dance to my very own rhythm
once again.
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