Background story:
The week before Easter 2015, which also happens to be one of the busiest seasons in the dance year, I was landing a fouette turn in Jazz class. I had a little bobble landing it, tried to recover the minor loss of balance, and managed to injure my foot in the process. I didn't fall, I didn't even take a step. My left foot literally moved from left to right and BOOM. Little did I know... I finished the class and still had another one to go to so I grabbed an ice pack, and finished out the night.
I walked in from dance later that night, ate supper, and casually told my parents further on in the evening that my foot was hurting some. Of course they asked what happened and I nonchalantly told them. (Note: This is not a good example of communication. Do not follow in my lead. :D) By this time my foot was kinda red and a bit swollen...so we iced it some more, elevated it, and Mom made an appointment for the next day. When we saw the doctor we were told to rest it until a performance that weekend, rest it a little more after the performance, and then I should be fine to take it from there!
Fast forward nearly two months, two casts, three doctors, multiple dance days on it dancing, and three diagnosis' later: we finally found out what was truly going on. As it turns out I had injured the Lis Franc ligament, which holds the bones of your first and second toes together above the arch of your foot. This injury also happens to be the most misdiagnosed foot injury. Greaaaatttt. And because I had danced and done multiple other things on it following the original injury, it had developed into a pretty bad case. The Lord was gracious to allow it not to be bad enough to need surgery, but I had another cast put on it and I was going to have to be immobilized until at least the end of July. We were in April. Not to mention my brother's wedding was the first of August, and I wanted to walk. The pressure was on.
By now it was evident I was not going to be able to dance in any of the end of the year performances, and my theater production would have to be done on crutches. This was a blow. It was hard to accept. My desire was to be in at least, if only, one of the dances. All I wanted was to honor one of my teachers as I glorified the Lord. Just one dance. This time however I would only be able to dance in my heart.
At this point I had no idea the strain it would end up being, physically, emotionally, or spiritually. My faith stayed strong throughout, but really I wanted nothing more than to be in heaven with Jesus. It was just too hard. Still having this constant migraine on top of an injury where moving was all kinds of a struggle, would truly end up testing every ounce of perseverance I prayed to possess. This was going to be a very slow go.
On the other side I can say I have wonderful memories that God in His wonderful mercy wove through that time, and I am very blessed, but it was not fun. After 10 months of dealing with this injury, I FINALLY said goodbye to rehab therapy. Getting back into dance was difficult. It took a ton of work and effort. It challenged me continually when I wanted to give up. Long, long, hours of practicing, strengthening, pushing, relearning, it was rough. But joy could not even compare. I was ecstatic. Ecstatic to be able to practice, to work, to try once again. I could now put it in my past, learn from it, and move on never having to do it again.
Right.
Almost exactly to the day, one year later, I RE-INJURED MYSELF. Yes. This time I was on pointe. No one knows exactly what happened... One minute I was practicing my solo in front of my teacher, my class watching, it was even recorded. A few minutes later, at the end of the dance my foot just decided to start hurting. No particular move, no trip, no fall, just when the music stopped my foot felt weird. Now I had recently learned this particular dance. I was not yet confident and I was definitely fumbling and rushing to keep up with the music. Honestly that's all I could tell you, that is all I know. I don't know what happened that day and no body else does either. Be that as it may though if that is all God ever wants to reveal to me, that's alright.
I didn't say anything at first I didn't think anything happened. A couple of us girls went downstairs to practice some of the pieces more and walking down I knew something was not quite right. I took off my shoes and was thinking I had only pulled a muscle on the top of my foot. Dancers pull muscles all the time. No big deal. I got an ice pack, practiced, and went back upstairs to practice more. The more I danced, the more my fear grew. As I left the studio that night I could barely hold back the tears. I could feel the pain was brewing deeper and deeper than just the top muscle of my foot. It frighteningly felt very close to the place of my last injury. I walked to the car crying out, begging, beseeching God in prayer. Falling before His throne with everything I had. I was praying in anguish, petitioning again and again that what I feared would not be the case.
"Lord I cannot do it again! Please don't make me! I can't, can't. I'm so scared! Please, let it not be injured. Please not the same thing. Not again. Do something. Lord please!" I called my best friend immediately to help me pray. I needed an army and I needed one fast. I was so scared, more than that, I was terrified.
I managed to still be holding my composer as I walked through the front door. Mama asked how dance went as she usually does while I passed the living room. "Alright," I sorta mumbled as I walked back to my room to drop my dance bag off. I don't know how, other than some sixth sense of being a mother, but her next question that followed was, "What's wrong?" She could tell. I took a deep breath and walked back. I barely had my foot into the doorway where Dad and Mom sat before I said, "What is the MRI that we did on my foot?" (Which is the only way to see the particular injury I had last time.) That was all I could get out before the tears started coming.
I cried for a little bit as they hugged me close and talked with me about what had happened. After a few tears, I was better. Mainly because even if it was the same thing, which we did not know for certain yet, we did not know how bad it was. It could not even be bad at all! It took a month of me walking and dancing on my foot last time to figure out what was the issue. Being able to walk in the door that night and say, "I need an MRI," is astounding. We just got right to work! Mama called the doctor, Dad was researching and locating where the pain was, and I went straight to elevating and icing. Smile on my face, fear gone, but I was still praying. I prayed and sang myself to sleep that night, but my level of concern had gone down. I had no idea what truly was the case, and either way I prayed for healing. I prayed for a miracle, because I knew God could it.
The next day was a completely different story. My quiet composer the day before, failed me. Drastically. Mood swings everywhere. I'm not one who usually ever gets mad, but today I was. I am so serious. You normally see me smiling, that's not a facade, I am genuinely happy. This day I was so on the wrong side of the bed. So. I'm talking: happy, sad, mad, smiling, laughing, crying, upset, playing, joking, mean, nice, good, bad, and everything in between. All over the spectrum. I am so sorry. I had to make a serious apology to my mother later. I handled the news fine last year. This time was proving to be entirely more emotional. This quickly went into top three of the worst ever days of my life. It was awful. It was not fun. I didn't want to be there.
I had an MRI done that night, a few x-rays, and a couple days later saw the doctor again. There was nothing he was too concerned about. He gave me the go ahead to start transitioning back into walking on my foot. (I had been using crutches.) We made no follow up appointment and life went back to being great. Well, at least for a day or two.
The more I walked on it the more it started to painfully ache. I didn't want to be hurting it more. Recital was close. Doctor's office here we come! Only we couldn't get in for two more weeks, back onto crutches I went! When the appointment came the doctor and two of his fellows looked at my foot, although it hurt they were not able to find a reason why. The doctor ordered a special CT scan to be done in a week and we would hear the results back a week after that. Two more weeks. Two more weeks that the end of the year recital and ballet would loom closer. More people were asking what was wrong, my teachers wanted to know how long, and I had no answer for anybody. Each day that went by I grew more anxious.
The scan was done, the results were back, and I was dying to know what was going on inside me. I needed to be dancing. I had missed several weeks now. We came back and they were as stunned as we were. There was nothing structurally wrong with my foot. The pain was valid, it was there they knew it was, but nothing was physically wrong that they could see. Where there was pain there was no problem, where there could have been a problem there was no pain. No one had a clue! But that was all I needed. Pain wasn't a problem, I didn't care. I can dance through it. I just needed to know that if I got back on it and danced I would not be injuring it further. I didn't want to damage it. The doctor was sure there was no damage I could do so they gave me the full go ahead. It was time to catch back up in dance. Three weeks until performance was not a lot of time!
To be continued... :D
Fast forward nearly two months, two casts, three doctors, multiple dance days on it dancing, and three diagnosis' later: we finally found out what was truly going on. As it turns out I had injured the Lis Franc ligament, which holds the bones of your first and second toes together above the arch of your foot. This injury also happens to be the most misdiagnosed foot injury. Greaaaatttt. And because I had danced and done multiple other things on it following the original injury, it had developed into a pretty bad case. The Lord was gracious to allow it not to be bad enough to need surgery, but I had another cast put on it and I was going to have to be immobilized until at least the end of July. We were in April. Not to mention my brother's wedding was the first of August, and I wanted to walk. The pressure was on.
By now it was evident I was not going to be able to dance in any of the end of the year performances, and my theater production would have to be done on crutches. This was a blow. It was hard to accept. My desire was to be in at least, if only, one of the dances. All I wanted was to honor one of my teachers as I glorified the Lord. Just one dance. This time however I would only be able to dance in my heart.At this point I had no idea the strain it would end up being, physically, emotionally, or spiritually. My faith stayed strong throughout, but really I wanted nothing more than to be in heaven with Jesus. It was just too hard. Still having this constant migraine on top of an injury where moving was all kinds of a struggle, would truly end up testing every ounce of perseverance I prayed to possess. This was going to be a very slow go.
On the other side I can say I have wonderful memories that God in His wonderful mercy wove through that time, and I am very blessed, but it was not fun. After 10 months of dealing with this injury, I FINALLY said goodbye to rehab therapy. Getting back into dance was difficult. It took a ton of work and effort. It challenged me continually when I wanted to give up. Long, long, hours of practicing, strengthening, pushing, relearning, it was rough. But joy could not even compare. I was ecstatic. Ecstatic to be able to practice, to work, to try once again. I could now put it in my past, learn from it, and move on never having to do it again.
Right.
Almost exactly to the day, one year later, I RE-INJURED MYSELF. Yes. This time I was on pointe. No one knows exactly what happened... One minute I was practicing my solo in front of my teacher, my class watching, it was even recorded. A few minutes later, at the end of the dance my foot just decided to start hurting. No particular move, no trip, no fall, just when the music stopped my foot felt weird. Now I had recently learned this particular dance. I was not yet confident and I was definitely fumbling and rushing to keep up with the music. Honestly that's all I could tell you, that is all I know. I don't know what happened that day and no body else does either. Be that as it may though if that is all God ever wants to reveal to me, that's alright.
I didn't say anything at first I didn't think anything happened. A couple of us girls went downstairs to practice some of the pieces more and walking down I knew something was not quite right. I took off my shoes and was thinking I had only pulled a muscle on the top of my foot. Dancers pull muscles all the time. No big deal. I got an ice pack, practiced, and went back upstairs to practice more. The more I danced, the more my fear grew. As I left the studio that night I could barely hold back the tears. I could feel the pain was brewing deeper and deeper than just the top muscle of my foot. It frighteningly felt very close to the place of my last injury. I walked to the car crying out, begging, beseeching God in prayer. Falling before His throne with everything I had. I was praying in anguish, petitioning again and again that what I feared would not be the case.
I managed to still be holding my composer as I walked through the front door. Mama asked how dance went as she usually does while I passed the living room. "Alright," I sorta mumbled as I walked back to my room to drop my dance bag off. I don't know how, other than some sixth sense of being a mother, but her next question that followed was, "What's wrong?" She could tell. I took a deep breath and walked back. I barely had my foot into the doorway where Dad and Mom sat before I said, "What is the MRI that we did on my foot?" (Which is the only way to see the particular injury I had last time.) That was all I could get out before the tears started coming.
I cried for a little bit as they hugged me close and talked with me about what had happened. After a few tears, I was better. Mainly because even if it was the same thing, which we did not know for certain yet, we did not know how bad it was. It could not even be bad at all! It took a month of me walking and dancing on my foot last time to figure out what was the issue. Being able to walk in the door that night and say, "I need an MRI," is astounding. We just got right to work! Mama called the doctor, Dad was researching and locating where the pain was, and I went straight to elevating and icing. Smile on my face, fear gone, but I was still praying. I prayed and sang myself to sleep that night, but my level of concern had gone down. I had no idea what truly was the case, and either way I prayed for healing. I prayed for a miracle, because I knew God could it.
The next day was a completely different story. My quiet composer the day before, failed me. Drastically. Mood swings everywhere. I'm not one who usually ever gets mad, but today I was. I am so serious. You normally see me smiling, that's not a facade, I am genuinely happy. This day I was so on the wrong side of the bed. So. I'm talking: happy, sad, mad, smiling, laughing, crying, upset, playing, joking, mean, nice, good, bad, and everything in between. All over the spectrum. I am so sorry. I had to make a serious apology to my mother later. I handled the news fine last year. This time was proving to be entirely more emotional. This quickly went into top three of the worst ever days of my life. It was awful. It was not fun. I didn't want to be there.
I had an MRI done that night, a few x-rays, and a couple days later saw the doctor again. There was nothing he was too concerned about. He gave me the go ahead to start transitioning back into walking on my foot. (I had been using crutches.) We made no follow up appointment and life went back to being great. Well, at least for a day or two.
The more I walked on it the more it started to painfully ache. I didn't want to be hurting it more. Recital was close. Doctor's office here we come! Only we couldn't get in for two more weeks, back onto crutches I went! When the appointment came the doctor and two of his fellows looked at my foot, although it hurt they were not able to find a reason why. The doctor ordered a special CT scan to be done in a week and we would hear the results back a week after that. Two more weeks. Two more weeks that the end of the year recital and ballet would loom closer. More people were asking what was wrong, my teachers wanted to know how long, and I had no answer for anybody. Each day that went by I grew more anxious.
The scan was done, the results were back, and I was dying to know what was going on inside me. I needed to be dancing. I had missed several weeks now. We came back and they were as stunned as we were. There was nothing structurally wrong with my foot. The pain was valid, it was there they knew it was, but nothing was physically wrong that they could see. Where there was pain there was no problem, where there could have been a problem there was no pain. No one had a clue! But that was all I needed. Pain wasn't a problem, I didn't care. I can dance through it. I just needed to know that if I got back on it and danced I would not be injuring it further. I didn't want to damage it. The doctor was sure there was no damage I could do so they gave me the full go ahead. It was time to catch back up in dance. Three weeks until performance was not a lot of time!
To be continued... :D
Hello, my name is Maggie and I have commented before on your blog. The story that you just shared was remarkably close to a story that God wrote for me to walk through a couple years ago. Except for me it was my hand and not my foot. I injured me hand doing a seemingly harmless activity and then when months later when I was still in pain I went to the doctor. Long story short, after many, many doctor visits nobody could find a cure. I wore a brace for over a year. I am writing all this to tell that today I sit here and type brace free. While the doctors never found a cause or a cure God did. He was the one who sustained me and he was the one who healed me. Cling to him Rebekah and he will bring you through to the other side. Psalm 91:1-2 has been an encouraging verse to me. I hope it encourages you as well. "He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, 'My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'" -Psalm 91:1-2
ReplyDeleteYes!! I have heard so much about you! I am both sorry for such pain, and amazed at what the Lord has done. He will see us both through. He is faithful. Wow, I cannot believe how similar our stories are. It is only a God thing, and I hope one day to see His glorious puzzle. You are a tremendous testimony. What you said has helped and encouraged me more than you may ever know. I am learning much through this, but it is hard. You have spoken deep and I am so grateful. That verse is now one of my favorites. Thank you. Thank you so much. Believe too. Keep faith. Much love and prayers. <3
Delete<3 beautiful Rebekah, keep strong, love ya girl!!! <3 <3
ReplyDeleteThank you very much!! I love you so little sister!!! <3 <3 <3
DeleteYou are such a blessing! <3
ReplyDeleteYou are such an encouragement! <3
Delete