A Painful Journey With No End

I have always posted short and sweet blog posts, but nothing too dramatic or anything that has completely flipped my life upside down. But today, that is completely going to change. I’m going to tell you the story of how my life got flipped upside down to the point where I felt like I was drowning and couldn’t get back to the surface.

A Little Background:

For those that don’t know, I grew up in Grand Haven, Michigan. I come from a large family and my life and their life was swept away within my soccer career. I started playing at the age of 3 years old. According to my parents at that age I averaged 6 goals a game and I stole the ball from anyone, including my teammates. As Years passed, I joined the local travel team and then bounced around from club to club as I made my way through high school. I went to a small high school and my statistics were the best they had been and that helped pave the way for my college career. I signed with Cornerstone University my senior year of high school and I could not contain my excitement. My dream since I was 8 years old was to attend Cornerstone and it was finally coming true. However, that was not the only dream of mine. My dream and goal was also to play at the professional and national level. And let’s just say, that dream got ripped out of my hands before I could even blink.

This is the story of how my dreams and goals came to an end:

May of 2016 I had just finished my freshman year of college. It was not my best year of life, but I was so excited for summer and so motivated to go into the next pre-season being the strongest player on my team. I started working out and within days of working out I began to slowly lose my ability to stand up. I developed a pain in my groin that was absolutely excruciating. (I never had a good pain tolerance, so those that new me best at the time, weren’t always convinced when something serious was happening). Thankfully my mom took me to the emergency room where they diagnosed me with a hernia (a hernia is where a layer of your muscle in your abdomen gets a hole and your insides basically start to fall out, if not treated they can get bigger and become life threatening). Completely embarrassed and frustrated, I went home with orders to call up a surgeon to have another opinion. Walking into that surgeon’s office I was terrified, I had never had surgery before and I wasn’t ready for that to happen. In that first appointment my hernia had slipped back in, and he was unable to identify if I actually had a hernia. It actually took several appointments before he finally saw the bump sticking out of my groin that have him the confirmation that I needed to have surgery. Within days of that appointment I found myself back at the hospital getting wheeled back to be sedated for my first procedure.

Fast forward a couple months and I’m back on campus getting ready for my sophomore season. I was ready to go, I had a slow start and wasn’t able to train all summer or preseason due to hernia surgery, but mentally I couldn’t wait to step back on the pitch. I passed my fitness test within a week of being cleared, and I finally got to start participating in games. You’d think that it would be a happy ending, and things would be all sunshine and rainbows. But unfortunately for me that’s just not my luck.

Game after game and training after training I was still dealing with excruciating pain in my groin. I remember crawling off the field after several games because I couldn’t stand due to the pain. But after several trips to the surgeon and several visits to the trainers room I was stuck with: “it’s nothing, you’re fine, suck it up.” It wasn’t until our last game when we were playing Aquinas where I finally collapsed and couldn’t get up. It was an awful dreary day at the end of October. It was freezing rain. We made it inside at halftime to talk about the game plan for the second half. I couldn’t even concentrate on what coach was saying as I curled up into a ball and just started to cry. I was in the most pain I had ever felt. I was shaking and couldn’t get up. As my team left the room and headed outside I stayed behind where one of my coaches asked what was wrong and then quickly called the trainers and my parents who then made the decision to get me to the hospital right away. At the hospital I underwent a few tests only to be sent home with the diagnosis of an ovarian cyst rupturing. They put me on some painkillers and told me I’d be fine in a few days.

A few days passed and with no improvement I ended up back in the emergency room. The same doctor who treated me a few days prior walked in and was so confused as to why I wasn’t any better than before. But with his experience as an athlete and treating some previous athletes he did a few movements with my right leg only to find that those movements made my pain worse. He sent me home again with more pain meds and told me to reach out to my primary to get an MRI of my hip.

Within days of seeing my primary I was sent to see a sports specialist, who then pushed me through physical therapy. Without knowing exactly what was wrong with my hip I went through two months of rigorous exercises only to walk out of there worse than before.

At this time, I was so frustrated and discouraged and wanted to give up. I was so annoyed with all the pain and not knowing what was actually going on. Finally, I got my MRI. It was a contrast image, which meant they had to stick a long needle into my joint so it would light up the imaging. I was already terrified of needles, and so going into that room I was shaking, crying, and just asking God to help me get through it. Little did I know, that it was actually going to be that painful. I screamed. The pressure of that needle must have irritated whatever was in my hip. At that point, probably the most painful thing I had ever experienced.

Jump forward a couple days, and I got that phone call that I was dreading. I was in my dorm room when I got the call. I heard the doctors words and the rest all faded away. I had torn my labrum and needed surgery. I melted to the floor. I hung up the phone and cried for about an hour, missing my class that I had been getting ready for when I had received the call. I then gathered myself, called my mom and my coach. We needed to get surgery done ASAP so I could recover before my next season. My mom and I spent that day calling surgeons. All the surgeons had been booked until at least May, and even then they all wanted me to go through physical therapy again. I again said no, I was in too much pain to continue therapy and knew I needed to get it fixed. Finally, a surgeon in Muskegon called me back and said he had an opening on Friday. I packed my bags, moved home and had labrum repair surgery on February 24 of 2017.

Within 7 months I had two surgeries. I was frustrated and upset. I just wanted to be normal. I just wanted to train. I wanted to be the best I could be and accomplish the goals I had as a little girl.

I ended up red-shirting the fall of 2017, my junior year. I had gotten cleared to play the day before my birthday, but we were already half-way through the season. So it wasn’t worth it to jump in, especially with not much training. I worked my butt off for that entire year. I wanted to come back my senior year the strongest I had ever been. That was, at that moment, the best season I had, completely pain free.

Fast forward to August 10, 2019. We had preseason training for my super-senior year. I remember it as if it was yesterday. We were playing a 2v2 transition game. It had to have been 90 degrees outside. We were all sweating so bad and we were on turf. But that didn’t stop me from giving it my all. It was my turn next and I was ready to get the next goal. The ball was rolling out of bounds and I could hear my coach yelling to not let it go out of bounds. I sprinted as fast as I could, and slid to keep the ball going out. I did it! I saved the ball from going out of bounds and played the ball back into my teammate. But my right side was destroyed. It felt as if I had just slid on glass. It was stinging and burning so bad and I wanted to cry. But I slowly got up and looked down to see the biggest turf burn I had ever had. It was black and red, it was oozing and bleeding at the same time. There were turf pellets in it. I wanted to cry so bad, but I knew it was nothing and just jumped back in line. After practice I headed to the training room to get it cleaned up. After all, it was just a turf burn.

The next day I went to church with my team and then we went to a lake house. I started to get nauseous and wasn’t feeling the best. I decided to leave early and went home. When I got home things got worse. The back of my leg went numb, my feet was tingling and the pain in my groin was back. I started to cry. Knowing very well what that meant. I tore my labrum again. I immediately texted one of the trainers. She told me to see the head trainer the following day.

The next day I walked to the training room. I paused outside the door and took a deep breath. I walked inside and without even looking at me the trainer said: “it’s just a turf burn, don’t make it more than what it actually is.” I turned around and walked out. I trained the rest of that week and we headed out to Portland, Oregon that weekend. We played two games on our trip, and each game my hip got worse. When we got back from our trip I decided to pay the other trainer a visit. She looked at it, and recommended I see my surgeon again. So back to my surgeon I went only to be told there’s no way I tore it, and even if I did I wasn’t going to make it any worse.

I went back to my season, I rested for a couple weeks and did some rehab on my own. And I had the best season of my college career. Each game was a challenge and multiple times where I crawled off the field. But I was doing it. I was living my dream and trying to make a path to continue my career outside of college.

At the end of my last college season I decided to continue playing with a local futsal club. I remember the last game we had, I didn’t even have the strength to kick the ball. With 5 seconds left on the clock I collapsed. I definitely tore my labrum. There was no way I didn’t. I went back to my surgeon and had an MRI. And then that phone call came. It was torn again! But what they also found was I had a very shallow hip socket. So they recommended I see a specialist. It was now the year of 2020, COVID hit, and things slowed down. I saw a specialist who stuck me in therapy, again. When that wasn’t helping we decided to do a scope to hopefully clean out some of that labrum. On November 6 of 2020 I had my second hip procedure done. It was super easy compared to my labrum repair. But, what I didn’t know is that at my next appointment I would find out how bad it actually was.

At my next appointment, I was hoping to get the news that everything went well and that I would jump back in to physical therapy and be back on track to playing. However, I got the worse news of my life. I did not just tear my labrum, I shredded it. So my cartilage in my hip was no longer existent. And not only that, but the surface area of my socket was slim to none. Meaning that with that combination of no labrum and little surface area, my hip was moving around way too much. Basically the muscles were what was holding it into place. Which also meant, that I would never be able to set foot onto a soccer field again.

I got into my car not knowing what had just happened. I cried. I cried and I cried and I cried. The thing that had carried me through life, my outlet, my world just got ripped out of my hands. All my hopes and dreams of playing at the highest level torn right out of me.

It didn’t end there though. I went through another few months of therapy. Not much changed, I had tried to play again in 2021, but I was in pain still and I wasn’t strong enough. I went back to my specialist and we talked about what’s next. He told me that I was a good candidate for this special surgery. And if I wanted to, I could go through with it. But he recommended I wait until the beginning signs of arthritis. So I asked him what those symptoms were so I could begin to look out for those signs. And little did I know that he would list everything that I had been experiencing every day for the past year and a half. And that’s when we decided it was a good time to do the surgery. I talked to one of his assistants. She mapped out for me how big of a surgery it was going to be. What was going to happen. Basically preparing me for the biggest operation of my life. And making sure I was okay with it. So we put a date in the calendar. November 2 of 2021. We ended up changing that date because even though I could not play soccer or futsal I found a new love in coaching. And I wanted to coach. So we changed the date to May 31 of 2022.

As the surgery date approached I became more and more fearful. I started to shut people out. I cried almost every night for a month straight. It just isn’t fair. Seeing people my age perform at the highest level. And even seeing people who I played with or played against fulfilling their dreams was a gut punch. As much as I am so happy for them and so proud of who they have all become, I kept asking God why? Why not me? Why do I have to be the one who’s benched on the sidelines? I have given everything to this game! And I would give anything to be able to step out onto the field one last time.

May 31, 2022

My alarm went off at 4:00 a.m. I got up slowly knowing exactly what day it was. I jumped in the shower, washing with that special soap they give you before a surgery. I got ready, and left the house by 4:30. It was a long drive, and I was shaking more and more as we got closer. I had packed my bag the night before because I knew I had to stay the night at the hospital. When we got there, I grabbed my bag, my blanket, and my sloth and my mom and I walked in.

I checked in and with being the first ones there we got back into a room quickly. I changed into the hospital gown. And they started to prep me. Urine sample, bloodwork, IV, blood pressure, medications, etc. I got visits from nurses, my surgeon, the anesthesiologist, etc. I was ready to go yet still had an hour before the procedure. I sat there in the bed just thinking about everything. About my soccer career, about the past procedures, about everything. And before I new it they were wheeling me out my room. Next thing I knew I was barely waking up in the recovery room.

I was not with it at all. Things were happening everywhere but I could barely keep my eyes open. I was in some open area. It was cold. The lights were bright. I don’t know how long I was there, but I started to move. And then next thing I knew I was in my hospital room. My mom was there with several nurses. I don’t remember much. But next thing I remembered was being tipped upside down in my bed. The machines were beeping so loud. I could barely keep my eyes open when I felt my mom grab my hand. I was also in the most pain of my life. Worse than anything else I had experienced up to this point. And then a rush of people came into the room. I didn’t know exactly what was happening but later I had found out that my blood pressure had dropped to the low 50s and I had turned white and my lips blue. Just a little on the scary side.

After getting stabilized, I was given a unit of blood and some tylenol to help ease the pain and help get that blood pressure up. I was awake enough to eat, but only for a few minutes before I fell asleep again. I had a really hard time staying awake. And every time I fell asleep my blood pressure would drop.

June 1, 2022

The next day, they wanted me up and moving. So they removed my catheter so I could use the bathroom on my own. Well, let’s just say that backfired. Because the moment I stood up I passed out and my blood pressure dropped again. This made it impossible for me to go home that day. Which meant another night in the hospital. It also meant that I needed another unit of blood and some new medications. After changing up my medications and giving me some more blood I started to slowly get stronger.

June 2, 2022

Thursday, two days after surgery they came to get me up and moving again. I didn’t pass out, but I was close to it. My blood pressure had dropped again. I was so frustrated. I wanted to go home. I was scared. I stayed another night. It was Friday. I finally was able to get up and use the bathroom! And I didn’t pass out. My blood pressure was low. But not to the point where it was super concerning. I also made it into a chair. With this progress I was able to go home Friday night.

Going Home

Once I got home there were a lot of other challenges I had to face. Using the bathroom was still a struggle, getting into a wheel chair, being comfortable in bed, etc. Every day I got stronger and stronger. I went from only moving one step with lifting my leg with my hands, to taking 5 steps without grabbing my leg. I went from having someone help me out of bed to doing it on my own. I went from using a walker to using crutches. Each day there is something new that I can do. Something that proves I’m getting stronger and one step closer to normal.

It’s now June 27. Only 27 days post op. It has been the most difficult recovery I’ve ever gone through. There are days where I want to give up. Days where I wish it wasn’t me. Days I wish it would all go away. But I know, that this is making me stronger. And even though I’m furious and want to just scream. I’m also finding so much joy and peace. I’m finding the goodness of God in the little victories. It’s definitely hard and I’m not going to sugar coat it. And there’s been some difficult prayers that I’ve had to pray. But my faith in Christ is what’s giving me this strength. Without him I wouldn’t be making it through this. I still have a long way to go, and the crutches and wheelchair are reminding me that I can’t do it alone. I need to depend on something to keep my balance in life. And that something is Jesus Christ. Here’s to him for helping me in every aspect of my life and always being there when I need him most.