Why I Created the Surgery Recovery & Reset Program: The Missing Piece Between Surgery and Getting Your Life Back

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 still not back to the things that make you feel like yourself.

You want to hike that trail again, get back on your bike, or return to your yoga or Pilates class. Maybe it’s tennis with your friends, a 5K, a round of golf, or time in the weight room. Or maybe you just want to walk your dog without wondering what tomorrow will feel like.

You’re medically recovering, but you’re not quite back.

I’ve been there more than once. It’s the reason I created Surgery Recovery & Reset, an 8-week, 1:1 coaching program for active professionals who want support with the physical, emotional, and everyday challenges of orthopedic surgery recovery.

There is a space between “you’re cleared” and “I’m back to doing the things I love.” I call it the messy middle.

Nobody should have to go through it alone.

I Know What It Feels Like to Be Told You’re Doing Great When You Know You’re Not There Yet

I’ve had nine orthopedic surgeries.

Yes, you read that right. Nine.

Three of them happened within a three-year stretch: first my knee, then my ankle, and then a second surgery on that same ankle. Those were surgeries four, five and six. It was during the recovery from that sixth surgery that I really began to understand the gap.

My surgeon said I was doing great. So did my physical therapist. But I was nowhere near where I wanted to be. All I wanted was to walk comfortably, or even hike. Mostly, I wanted to feel like myself again. Instead, I was exhausted.

I was also working a demanding job, and I rarely stopped. Most nights I’d get home worn out, eat dinner, collapse on the couch, and drag myself to bed. Then at 3am I’d be wide awake, thinking about how far behind I was at work and in every other aspect of my life.

Nobody had really prepared me for another part of recovery, either: the emotional rollercoaster.

There was always a timeline, and my recovery didn’t match it. My medical team was solid and my PTs were helpful, but their support only went so far. I still had questions I didn’t know how to answer. Why am I still struggling when I’m supposedly doing so well? How does one good day turn into three bad ones? Am I pushing too hard, or not hard enough? When will I feel normal again?

The biggest question of all was this one: How am I supposed to keep doing everything else in my life while I’m recovering?

The Garbage Can Was My Office Footrest

During one especially hard stretch, I was sitting at my desk with my post-surgery ankle in a boot.

I had dragged an ugly metal garbage can over from the corner of my office and flipped it upside down. That was where my boot went, raised just enough to take the edge off. My crutches lay on the floor, barely within reach. Getting up meant a whole production, so I stayed put.

I was looking at my computer screen, but I couldn’t make the words mean anything. My brain kept sliding off the sentences and back to the throbbing in my ankle, and to the same question: Why is this so hard?

I’m a person who figures things out. Being capable, productive, and responsible was how I’d always functioned. This should not have been this hard.

Then an email arrived from my boss with a “quick reminder” about a Saturday event I was helping organize.

I just sat there with my boot on the garbage can, reading that email like it was written in a language I’d studied in high school.

What I didn’t understand yet was that I was trying to solve recovery like a work problem. Find the right plan and do the exercises correctly. Work harder, push through, and make up for a bad day with a really productive one. I was treating my body like a project that would respond if I just gave it enough effort.

That’s how I’d gotten so many other things done in my life. Unfortunately, recovery doesn’t always work that way. More effort doesn’t always mean faster progress, and on the days I pushed hardest, I often paid for it the next day.

The shift came when I stopped asking, “What should I be doing more of?” and started asking, “What do I need to stop doing?”

Once I understood that, the frustration started to loosen. Slowly.

Then I Connected the Dots

After my eighth surgery, a hip surgery, the bigger picture came together.

I was in a Pilates class when I recognized just how much movement mattered in my life. This idea had been swirling in my head for a while, and then I saw their motto: movement heals. Simple, but oh-so true. Recovery was about movement, but it was about so much more.

Some parts of recovering from orthopedic surgery are obvious. You need time for incisions to heal, and to rebuild your strength and mobility. There are so many other pieces, though. What happens when you’re frustrated, exhausted, or not sleeping? Or when you start wondering whether you’ll ever get back to your favorite activity? All the while, your job is still demanding and your family still needs you. 

Throughout my own recoveries, I had some great surgeons and physical therapists, plus friends and family who showed up. Having people in my corner made a real difference, and I wanted other people to have that support, too.

I also knew how to provide support and guidance. For more than 20 years, I worked with university students and their families as they faced stressful situations, high expectations, and complicated personal circumstances. On top of that came my health coach training, my experience as a patient finding my way through the US healthcare system, nine orthopedic surgeries, and everything I’d learned about what helped and what didn’t.

I mentioned the idea to several physical therapists who also saw the gap I had identified. Later, I got buy-in from a surgeon and physician’s assistant. Smart people who knew the ins and outs of recovery could see the value in this program.

Surgery Recovery & Reset really began to take shape as a program providing support, education and direction for people struggling after surgery.

The Problem Isn’t That You’re Not Trying Hard Enough

If you’re an active or driven person, recovery may hit you especially hard. You’re used to getting things done, working hard, and solving problems. You’ve probably spent plenty of time researching your surgery and recovery online.

But recovery isn’t a problem you can always research or work your way out of. Sometimes the harder you push, the more your body asks you to slow down.

That can be incredibly frustrating, especially when the world keeps sending the opposite message. Work harder, push through, keep going, no days off. Those words might sound motivating when you’re training for a race or chasing a fitness goal. When you’re recovering from surgery, they can make you wonder whether you’re simply not trying hard enough.

Meanwhile, you’re trying to get through a normal Tuesday. There are meetings at work, kids who need help, dinner to make, a PT appointment to get to, and then you’re supposed to sleep. Somewhere in there, you wonder where the energy for all of it is supposed to come from.

You may even start telling yourself you’re making excuses.

That isn’t what’s happening. You’re recovering.

There’s a Gap Between Medical Care and Real Life

Your surgeon has an important job. They perform the surgery and watch over your early recovery. Your physical therapist has an important job too, working with you on movement, strength, mobility, and function.

Neither role is designed to give you all the support you may need in the weeks and months in between. You might have a limited number of PT visits. Doctor appointments may be short and a few weeks apart. And your work schedule might make it hard to keep regular appointments.

There’s often very little room in those appointments for the questions that keep you up at night. Can I really keep up with my job like this? What do I do when a pain flare hits? Why am I sleeping so badly? How much rest is enough? Is it okay to lean on my family, or am I being a burden? When will I feel like myself again?

That’s the space this program can fill. Your surgeon and physical therapist stay at the center of your medical care, and I help you with everything around it.

Five Steps From Recovery to Getting Back to Your Life

That’s why I built Surgery Recovery & Reset as an eight-week, 1:1 coaching experience. The program follows five steps.

1. Assess

   We start with an honest look at where you are today. Forget where you thought you’d be, or where some generic timeline says you should be. This is about where you actually are.

   
   

   Together we look at pain, sleep, stress, energy, confidence, and activity. From there, we name what matters most to you and figure out who’s in your corner.

   
   

   Your goal is bigger than “recover from surgery.” It might be a specific trail, a 5K, or a tennis match with your friends. We start there.

   
   

2. Reframe

   Recovery doesn’t move in a straight line. It zigzags. One day you feel fantastic, and the next you’re wondering what happened. That’s normal.

   
   

   Together, we work on catching the thoughts that can turn one hard day into a whole hard week. I’ll never play again. Look how far behind I am. Something must be wrong. Why isn’t this happening faster? Instead of letting those thoughts take over, you learn to spot them and put them in perspective.

   
   

3. Rest

   This one is huge, especially for people who are used to being productive.

   
   

   We build a simple nighttime plan and a strategy for those middle-of-the-night wake-ups when pain or worry has you staring at the clock. Nobody’s aiming for a perfect 8 hours of sleep here. We’re looking for the rest your body needs to keep recovering, and helping you to stop treating rest like a reward you earn only after everything else is done.

   
   

4. Pace

   This is where we look at your push-crash cycle. Maybe it’s a long dog walk followed by three sore days. It could be going back to work too fast and spending every evening completely drained. Or it’s one good day where you try to cram in everything you’ve been missing.

   
   

   Together, we look at your real life and find a pace that works. The goal is to end your days with something left in the tank, so one good day has a better chance of leading to another good day instead of a setback.

   
   

5. Thrive

   Finally, we look back at how far you’ve come, what you’ve learned about yourself, and what works for your body. Then we look at what’s next.

   
   

   We map out the weeks after the program so you’re not suddenly on your own, wondering what to do. Recovery doesn’t always end just because the eight weeks do, and the goal is to help you keep moving toward the life you want to get back to.

   
   

Support When You Actually Need It

Surgery Recovery & Reset includes six private 1:1 coaching calls. During each one, we look at what’s happening in your recovery, what’s getting better, and what keeps holding you back. Then we adjust the plan around your pain, energy, sleep, work, and activity so you know what to focus on next.

You’ll also get weekly email check-ins, so you don’t have to wait for your next appointment to bring something up or wonder whether a change is worth mentioning.

Recovery doesn’t always happen neatly between 9 and 5, so the program also includes three Rough-Patch Check-Ins. These are for the moments that knock you sideways, like a pain flare, a string of sleepless nights, or worry that starts to spiral. You can book a 15-minute call during business hours, or send a text or voicemail, and I’ll respond within one business day.

Each check-in covers one hard moment. Sometimes you need someone to listen. Other times you need help figuring out what to do next, or simply a reminder that one bad day doesn’t mean you’ve failed.

What “Just Wait it Out” Really Costs

“I’ll just wait. It will get better.”

I’ve heard people say that many times. I’ve even said it myself.

Maybe it will. Here’s what waiting often looks like while you’re living it, though.

You’re awake at 3 am again, counting how many weeks it’s been. The group hike came and went, and you told your friends “next time,” which was the same thing you said in the spring. Those trail shoes by the door? You step around them now. At work, PT barely comes up anymore because you’re tired of explaining. Then one good Saturday shows up. You clean out the garage, feel great for about four hours, and spend Sunday and Monday on the couch with an ice pack, wondering what’s wrong with you.

None of that shows up in your chart. It shows up in the things you start telling yourself. Maybe I’m just not a hiker anymore. This might be as good as it gets.

That’s the part that worries me most. The longer those thoughts go unanswered, the more they start to sound like the truth.

Surgery recovery is often a short chapter in a person’s life, but those weeks still count. Those weeks and months don’t have to be miserable, and you don’t have to figure everything out by yourself.

So instead of asking whether it will get better on its own, ask yourself how many more 3am wake-ups and skipped hikes you’re willing to wait through.

You don’t have to find out.

I Want This Kind of Support to Be Part of All Orthopedic Care and Recovery

My bigger vision is that someday, health coaching will be a normal part of orthopedic surgery prep and recovery. I want to see orthopedic practices and physical therapy offices with health coaches on hand to support patients through the parts of recovery that don’t fit neatly into a 20-minute medical appointment.

Employers should recognize that recovery takes time, and that someone going to physical therapy or needing extra rest isn’t slacking at their job. My hope is that people understand the value of rest, especially early on. Most of all, I want people to know they don’t have to wait until they’re completely overwhelmed to ask for help.

There’s so much trial and error before and after surgery. How much should you do, and how much should you rest? When is it time to go back to work or start exercising again? What should you do when something hurts, and how do you know you’re making progress? And what if your recovery looks nothing like the one you read about online?

You shouldn’t have to figure all of that out alone.

You Can Be More Than “A Patient”

You are still a runner, a hiker, a golfer, a yogi, or a cyclist. Maybe you’re the one who never missed a pickup basketball game with friends. And you’re still a parent, partner, professional, friend, and whole person.

Surgery may change what your body can do for a while, but it doesn’t erase who you are.

Getting your joint to a certain degree of flexibility or checking a box at your next appointment is only part of recovery. The bigger part is finding your way back to the life that makes you feel like you.

That’s why I created Surgery Recovery & Reset: to help you ride the emotional ups and downs, to find rest and a pace that fits your actual life, and to take small, meaningful steps toward the activities you miss.

If you’re somewhere in that messy middle, cleared and recovering but not quite back, I’d love to talk with you. Book a call with me to talk about what you’re going through and whether the program might be a good fit.

There’s no need to wait until things get harder, or to prove you can handle every step of recovery on your own. Your life doesn’t have to stay on hold until everything feels perfect.

Let’s find your way back to the things that make you feel like yourself.