For the past month, my life has been consumed with balancing a demanding day-job with reproductive endocrinology. The emotional pendulum has swung in a bad direction for many weeks, leaving me feeling weighed down by the stress of my work-that-pays-the-bills and downright suffocated by the very bad news I keep receiving from REs. Every day I have carried the hope that I would not allow all of this to crush me, and as far as basic hopes go, I have done okay, I suppose. I sleep. I eat. I mother my niblet. I hug my husband. I cook our dinners. But honestly I have had little joy.
But you know the way some people's knees predict the weather? Well, this weekend, it was my creaky kneecap that predicted a way forward. I need to heal. I need to dance again.
It should come as no surprise that I haven't had any time to either take or teach dance classes in the months following my last miscarriage. Making matters worse, my left knee is a mess, with one kneecap looking pretty off-kilter to the naked eye. When I was in NYC a few weeks ago, I actually took a ballet class and was completely hobbled after the barre Balletophiles may know what I am talking about when I say that there's a point in every class when some of the, umm, ladies of a certain age start to bow out of the class. In what was the ultimate crush to my ego I had to bow out with them, as I was unable to execute the pirrouettes and jumps that I love. Oh sure, I can walk, and have taken up swimming many laps at the pool to get workouts in, but that's not good enough, I need to MOVE. You may recall that after my first miscarriage, I became a licensed zumba instructor because it gave me so much joy. I also heaped on ballet classes that I love. Not to put too fine a new-agey point on it, but dance is my bliss.
So this weekend, when I woke up in the morning with knee pain after doing nothing I realized I have to get back into physical therapy. I have to heal some very real physical issues that are preventing me from dancing. Embarking on a treatment plan will certainly take time and energy away from acupuncture and all of the other appointments I have crammed into my life to save my ovaries. But hey there universe, I'm writing to say I hear the wake-up call Loud and clear.