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You did everything you were supposed to do. The surgery happened, and you followed every instruction. Physical therapy was on your calendar, and you did your exercises. Through all of it, you kept showing up for work and everything else that still needed your attention. Then someone told you, “You’re doing great.” So why don’t you feel great? Maybe your surgeon has cleared you. You might be nearing the end of physical therapy, or you’ve already been discharged. But you’re sti

Six weeks after my knee surgery, I woke up on a Saturday morning and felt almost like myself. The ever-present, oh-so-familiar ache was gone. I stood up without holding onto the nightstand, made my tea, and didn't think twice about my knee. So I did what any reasonable person would do. I made up for lost time. First came my PT exercises, and they felt so easy that I did them twice. Next, I folded two loads of laundry. After that I walked to the end of the street, and since th

The calendar in my head My second hip surgery landed right in the middle of COVID lockdown. I don’t need to tell you what was going on; the world had gone quiet as most of us stayed home. No one was stopping by my desk or checking in to ask how the hip was doing. Nobody could see how long any of this was taking. You'd think that would take the pressure off. Unfortunately, it didn't. A clock was running in my head. I spent over 50 sessions in PT for that hip. Every one of them

My second ankle surgery was going to go better than the first. I had decided that before they wheeled me in. So I did everything they told me. Crutches, no weight on the foot, and the boot on 24/7. Yes, even in bed. My foot and I spent over a month in that boot together, and by the end no one was happy about it. When PT finally started, I was ready. My life shrank down to three places: work, PT, and home. Every exercise got done, and I never missed an appointment. I was going

You're cleared, you're strong enough, and you still haven't gone back. Three things that help, from a coach who took five months to walk into a yoga class.

Three weeks after one of my surgeries, I sat on my couch at 10a.m., still in my pajamas, staring at a to-do list I hadn't touched. My leg throbbed under an ice pack. My phone buzzed with a work email I wasn't ready to answer. And out of nowhere, I started crying over a random Instagram reel of cute puppies. If you've had a moment like that, I want you to hear this before you keep scrolling: nothing is wrong with your mind. Something big happened to your life after surgery, an

“I hope no one sees this cluster#@$%.” That was the thought going around in my head at 8 am. I stood at my office door on crutches, with a stuff meeting in 20 minutes and the sweat under my jacket. My arms already ached from a week of holding myself up, and the day had not kicked in yet. The key was in my backpack. My backpack was on my back. Both of my hands gripped crutches, and my water bottle was jammed under one arm, cold and slick, sliding lower by the second. So I foll

I have gone back to work too soon after almost every surgery I have had. You would think I would learn. Shocker here - I have. The pattern never changes. A few weeks out, still sore, still moving carefully, I decide I am ready. I can get myself ready in the morning, so it must be time to return and become a productive member of society again. So I go back. And on day one, I have a whole plan for looking fine. A friend drops me off near the front door, so nobody has to watch

So let’s talk about what “cleared to return to regular activities” actually means, because I misread it, and I think a lot of people do.

Everyone recovering from orthopedic surgery hits a bad day at some point. I've had my fair share: the ankle that didn't like the transition out of the boot; the shoulder that protested when it was asked to rotate; the knee that couldn't quite straighten. And I fought against every bad day and setback. Those setbacks were normal. (Not that normal was ever much comfort.) I didn't get it at the time, but I now do. What made a difference was how I showed up the next day, in wheth

The pain wakes you at 2 am. You shift, you wait, and your mind starts running. The clock keeps moving, and sleep feels miles away. Those nights are hard. You can't always stop from waking up. But you can give your body a few gentle ways to settle back down. Here are some you can try without getting out of bed. Four ways to breathe Slow breathing sends your body a signal that it is safe to rest. It also gives your busy mind something to focus on instead of your to-do list. Try

She did everything right. Before she had surgery she watched a lot of videos. She read the discharge papers twice. She joined a recovery forum and spent two weeks reading about other people's challenges. She knew to expect some brain fog for a while. She knew overdoing it was a real risk, and was determined to be careful. She went into recovery prepared. And at week six, she was still sitting on the couch at 9 p.m., staring at her notes, wondering why everything still felt so

I had my ninth orthopedic surgery in February. I want to write that like it’s just a fact. But there’s something about the ninth time that stops feeling like a medical event and starts feeling like an ongoing conversation with your body. One you didn’t start and can’t seem to end. The shoulder repair went well. The surgeon was good. I came home in a sling, groggy, and told myself I knew exactly what to do. Nine surgeries gives you a certain confidence about these things. Poss

You got dressed this morning and it took three times longer than it should have. Not because you were distracted. Not because you were running late. Because the simple, automatic sequence of getting ready, the one you have done without thinking for decades, required actual effort. Just as it has since you had surgery. You had to slow down and adjust. You had to ask for help with something you would normally never think twice about. And before you even made it to the kitchen,

It is 8:45pm and you're reorganizing your calendar. Not because anything changed. Not because there is a conflict or an upcoming deadline. You are doing it because it is something you can control, and right now, control feels very far away. You moved the Tuesday check-in to Thursday. You color-coded the PT appointments. You drafted a message to your team about next week's priorities, even though next week is five days away and nobody asked. You have been at this for forty min

You are sitting in the PT waiting room on a Wednesday afternoon, doing the thing you told yourself you wouldn't do. The woman across from you came in after you did. She is moving easily, laughing at something on her phone, and when called she stands up without grasping the armrest for dear life. You heard her tell the front desk she had a knee replacement. Same surgery as your coworker, who was back at the gym in eight weeks. You are at ten weeks. You look down at your hands.

You've seen your Spotify Top 10. Google made a video of your top photos. You've scrolled through lists of the year's best books, most-watched shows, and biggest news stories. Your algorithms know what you consumed this year. But do you know what consumed your energy and attention? Beyond the Highlight Reel We're conditioned to review our year in superlatives: best moments, biggest achievements, most memorable trips. But that Instagram-ready approach misses the texture of you

Listen, I get it. It's almost Thanksgiving, and you're about to be bombarded with social media posts about #blessed and #grateful, along with someone's inspirational quote about thankfulness over a sunset background. Your eyes are already rolling so hard they might get stuck. yup, this is that social media post. But here's the thing: while Instagram gratitude can feel performative and cringey, the actual science behind gratitude practices is... kind of annoyingly impressive.

I'm doing PT. Again. As someone who had seven orthopedic surgeries before the age of forty, I’m well-versed in the rhythm and routine of...

September is Self-Care Awareness Month—a perfect time to pause and reflect on what self-care is (and what it isn’t).