Definition
Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Once called shell shock or battle fatigue syndrome, is a serious condition that can develop after a person has experienced or witnessed a traumatic or terrifying event in which there was serious physical harm or threat. PTSD is a lasting consequence of traumatic ordeals that cause intense fear, helplessness, or horror. Examples of things that can bring on PTSD include sexual or physical assault, the unexpected death of a loved one, an accident, war, or natural disaster. Families of victims can develop PTSD, as can emergency personnel and rescue workers.
WebMD
PTSD Issue One:
In August of 2019 I was a fit forty-five-year-old mom who cycled 4-5 times per week, hiked regularly, backpacked occasionally and felt pretty darn good. I was not at my thinnest, but not overly heavy either. But in September of 2019, I was the survivor of a near-death aortic emergency. I went from taking no medicine other than the occasional Tylenol to taking between 8-16 pills per day: warfarin, betablocker, aspirin, statin. Every day. For life. I could suddenly hear and feel my heart every time it ticked. I could hear a little rushing in my right ear if the room was quiet enough. And I had these crazy ocular migraines (no pain, but lots of crazy colors in one eye for about thirty minutes).
PTSD Issue Two:
Then, in November of 2019 I found out I was the survivor of two major strokes. And the only way we know they happened was the CAT scan they gave me because I had two 30-second double vision episodes right before Thanksgiving. I had a neurosurgeon walk into my hospital room and say, “We don’t know why you can move your left side. You’ve had two major strokes in the part of the brain that controls movement.” Uhhh…… what?
PTSD Issue Three:
Then, in January of 2020 I was diagnosed with early detection intraductal stage 1B cancer in my right breast. How did we find the breast cancer? My EKG leads made my skin itch and so I found this teeny tiny lump in my breast. That started the journey through lumpectomy, radiation and more medication for the next five years. So. Many. Pills.
So, yea. I have a lot of moments where I think, “Is this a hangnail? Or am I going to die?” Then, I breathe for a while, discover that it really is just a hangnail and I go about my day. Well, I manage for an hour or two and then I get this tiny pain zapping in my armpit where they did the lymph node biopsy, and I think “Is that the cancer coming back? Is that a stroke? In my armpit? Is my armpit going to kill me today?” And then I breathe again. I mean that’s what I do every time. I just come back to my breath. I try to look at three objects in the room to ground me.
What to do about PTSD feelings:
And I cycle. A lot. I have had an indoor bike (yea it’s a Peloton and proud of it) since 2015. And when I got home I was afraid to get on it. Terrified. So, I remember getting on it and I had a little jabbing pain in my left leg so I thought, “Is that a tiny jabbing pain or am I going to die?” The pain went away and I then thought. I am going to need help. There is no way I am going to turn these pedals around by myself alone in the house.
So I contacted Matt Wilpers, who is one of my favorite Peloton instructors. His coaching is grounded in cycling/sport training. He’s not as apt to dance on the bike or even add tabatas (if you don’t know what that is, consider yourself lucky) to his rides. I reached out to Matt and he pointed me in the direction of Greg Waggoner, who had coached several people through tough health journeys. Greg’s family has been through health stuff. I cannot begin to share how helpful it was to have a workout plan and accountability every week to complete that plan. Now we kept it safe and sane. I made sure my 16 doctors knew about it. I was on that bike every day of radiation treatment for the cancer.
I want to acknowledge that medications and therapy are also important parts of recovering from or living with PTSD. For me, I wanted to avoid yet more pills. And when I get off my bike I feel amazing. Riding has helped every time. And I do ride four to five times per week keeping my heart rate no higher than 145.
Now… I am a year out from the last ER visit. I am two years out from the cancer diagnosis. But today, I was driving in the car and had a little stabbing pain on the left side of my head. And I thought, say it with me now, “Is that a little stabbing pain in my head or is that something trying to kill me? A left hemisphere stroke?”Sheesh. So I kept driving, since I was on the freeway and that seemed wise. I kept breathing. And the brain pain went away.
Tonight? I’ll get on the bike. I’ll meditate. And take it one day at a time.
