Last summer while shooting the first few scenes in Harlem, I cut, turned my ankle and went down on the asphalt. I got up quickly, hoping Tom wouldn't see. I looked up and saw my brother Ryan shaking his head at me and I looked at the camera man and shook my head: don't tell Tom. It hurt, I guess, though relative to other injuries I've had, it wasn't too bad. The first day. Only problem is that I was wearing black low-tops, which prevented me from doing two things: 1) choking them up high to protect it and hold the swelling in and 2) get my ankle taped high with white tape. The next morning, it was worse and we had a full day to shoot. The line producer did a low tape and we covered it with black gaffer tape. At the wrap party that night, I realized something wasn't right--the sprain was blue up the side and back of my leg. Rob Lyall, the cameraman kept saying to me, "I think you really hurt your ankle."
I let it go for months. Sure it hurt, like most parts of my feet, but I was functional. I played maybe 3-4 times over the next seven months and then clearly must have lost my mind when I started doing 75 minute runs and jumping exercises and not stretching often enough. I stood up from writing one night and ripped my tendon again, much worse this time. I was so embarrased at the time, and my sister was squawking at me, "What is wrong with you?" I told her I sprained my ankle while writing. Whenever she was around me, I pretended like I was fine.
I had to go to a black-tie affair and coach for about 12 hours that weekend, so I thought the best thing to do was try to walk it off. I walked to Starbucks that night, wrote from there, and honestly it took me about 40 minutes to get home. I went to the black-tie event with a 6-foot-5 date, fortunately, and he agreed to be my crutch. A parent taped my foot so I could move around a bit without major shots of pain or tearing. I made it through the weekend, then tried to treat myself by going to a chiropractor and doing yoga. Three weeks later, I finally went to the doctor. Because I wasn't crying about it, I think he thought I was being a wuss. In doctor's terms with doctor attitude, he told me to suck it up. So I did, despite the fact that I was hearing clicking, tearing, and feeling tingling up my leg to my knee.
I had to go to a black-tie affair and coach for about 12 hours that weekend, so I thought the best thing to do was try to walk it off. I walked to Starbucks that night, wrote from there, and honestly it took me about 40 minutes to get home. I went to the black-tie event with a 6-foot-5 date, fortunately, and he agreed to be my crutch. A parent taped my foot so I could move around a bit without major shots of pain or tearing. I made it through the weekend, then tried to treat myself by going to a chiropractor and doing yoga. Three weeks later, I finally went to the doctor. Because I wasn't crying about it, I think he thought I was being a wuss. In doctor's terms with doctor attitude, he told me to suck it up. So I did, despite the fact that I was hearing clicking, tearing, and feeling tingling up my leg to my knee.
The short end to this very long story is I ended up going back to the doctor and saying, "I think something is wrong, and I'd rather risk the humiliation of being wrong than rupture a major tendon. It feels like it's going to pop."
I woke up from surgery, stared at my huge cast from the knee down and the P.A. said, "You did quite a number on yourself." Of course, I didn't believe her. Probably because I've done a serious number on myself so many other times that it's all relative. Four hours after surgery, the doc called me to check in.
He said, "Look, those MRI's don't always show the full picture of what's going on." (This is when I knew he was feeling so guilty for telling me to suck it up. He had no idea how much women athletes in particular can suck it up. Now he knows.) He went on: "Every one of your ligaments was torn, there was years and years of scar tissue damage and you had a huge tear--one of the biggest tears I've ever seen--in your peroneal tendon."
He said, "Look, those MRI's don't always show the full picture of what's going on." (This is when I knew he was feeling so guilty for telling me to suck it up. He had no idea how much women athletes in particular can suck it up. Now he knows.) He went on: "Every one of your ligaments was torn, there was years and years of scar tissue damage and you had a huge tear--one of the biggest tears I've ever seen--in your peroneal tendon."
Lessons learned here:
1) Rehab every little injury, especially as you age
2) Stretch, stretch, STRETCH!
3) Listen to your body, even if you're a stubborn ex-jock, who often looked down at her popping, clicking and snapping foot and said, "Well I'm still functional. It's not like it's falling off."
4) Don't get hooked on those pain killers. My prescription was for 75 percocet AND a second painkiller that lasts for 12 hours. I did use them for the first few days because when you have throbbing pain, it sets an alarm off in your body and while I certainly can take the pain, it's hard to sleep. And if you can't sleep, your body can't recover. I was in the cafe at the gym writing (I fell asleep in the corner) and then was up on the arm machine working out within days because I couldn't stand the stiffness. I also stopped the drugs by the third day. I didn't want to get hooked to the perfect cocktail of percoset (to loosen you up and take away the pain) and coffee (to keep you awake).
1) Rehab every little injury, especially as you age
2) Stretch, stretch, STRETCH!
3) Listen to your body, even if you're a stubborn ex-jock, who often looked down at her popping, clicking and snapping foot and said, "Well I'm still functional. It's not like it's falling off."
4) Don't get hooked on those pain killers. My prescription was for 75 percocet AND a second painkiller that lasts for 12 hours. I did use them for the first few days because when you have throbbing pain, it sets an alarm off in your body and while I certainly can take the pain, it's hard to sleep. And if you can't sleep, your body can't recover. I was in the cafe at the gym writing (I fell asleep in the corner) and then was up on the arm machine working out within days because I couldn't stand the stiffness. I also stopped the drugs by the third day. I didn't want to get hooked to the perfect cocktail of percoset (to loosen you up and take away the pain) and coffee (to keep you awake).
I will be spending the next two weeks in a cast and on crutches, then a boot, then an ankle brace til mid-October. My friend took a photo of me carrying my food in a bag over my shoulder from the kitchen to the living room, wearing my glasses, a sports bra and short shorts. I looked exhausted and in need of a bath. She said that is not a photo for the blog.
No more blogging for a few weeks. I have to write a book and lead us through post-production, which is three train rides away in Brooklyn. I am like Helen of Troy getting around this city. All for the love of $ GAME.
(P.S. #1 I found a bunch of photos of Helen of Troy -- there's a bunch of very sexy ones. This one seemed to work best for me. Wild red hair, a look of both misery and determination.)
(P.S. #2 More on peroneal tendons: http://www.foot-ankle.co.uk/ content/disorders/peroneals)
(P.S. #1 I found a bunch of photos of Helen of Troy -- there's a bunch of very sexy ones. This one seemed to work best for me. Wild red hair, a look of both misery and determination.)
(P.S. #2 More on peroneal tendons: http://www.foot-ankle.co.uk/ content/disorders/peroneals)
