I spent some time today in between my classes reading over some of my past blog posts. Aside from the occasional "slap-yourself-in-the-face" grammatical errors that I didn't catch for whatever reason during my original edits, I thought I did a fine job describing my feelings up to this point in the process. However, one thing irked me quite a bit with a few of the previous posts. I began to discuss how the reaction of those around me was beginning to diminish and things were returning, more or less, back to normal.
I don't mean for this to be conceived as me saying "no one cares anymore." Nor do I mean for this to be conceived as me saying "I don't need anyone to care anymore." Neither statement could be farther from the truth. When anything happens that alters the path of your life, a support group is one of the most important aspects of recovering from that incident. Whether it be an injury, an addiction, a loss of a loved one or simply just stress from everyday life, the reinforcement from the people that you surround yourself with is crucial. For me, the elbow injury has had a huge affect on my life, and there are many times when I feel overwhelmed with the situation at hand.
Having the support group I've had has been a huge assistance in making the process a little bit easier. I've had support from professors, coaches, administrators, trainers, doctors, friends, family...the list goes on and on. Everyone understands what I'm going through, and everyone has offered to help. The support group doesn't necessarily require the quantity that I've outlined. But it certainly requires the compassion. Tommy John recovery is a long and difficult road and is no easy task for anyone that is going through it. The support group can only be a positive.
The benefit of such an empathetic support group has somewhat made the process become more familiar to me. I have been able to focus on the things that are important and not get lost in the cumbersome future. It is pivotal to keep in mind that everyday is the most important day of your recovery, and that looking far ahead into the future is not a good thing to do. If I sit here today and begin to plan out my future, I get flustered. I still have approximately nine months to go until I am projected to be back on a mound, and that seems like an eternity from now. I've been through almost 11 weeks thus far and I can't imagine doing it for four times that amount. But, that's reality. That's what has to happen. So there's no need to think about it, I might as well just focus on what needs to get done at this present time and let things fall into place according to how the doctor says they are going to.
That, of course, is not to say that I'm not aware of my scheduled progress. As of today, the date that I am scheduled to begin throwing is November 10th. I spoke with Jeremy Geus last week, who is the assistant for Dr. Andrews. He explained to me that an in-depth evaluation sheet that would be filled out by my physical therapist is something that Dr. Andrews wants. Once that is read, we might do a Skype meeting...a video conference version of a doctor-patient talk...so that he can see the progression for himself. If he deems that everything seems smooth, he will then clear me to throw. This was certainly great news to hear, being that it will enable my father and me to save money on airplane tickets back down to Pensacola. I know that from November 10th on, I will be progressing on a very strict throwing routine...every other day...until I reach the point where I'll be cleared to throw off a mound, several months down the road.
One of the biggest obstacles that is beginning to form is the weather. I will state this right now: I HATE snow. I don't find snow pretty or fun or festive. Snow is a nuisance to the conveniences of life and cold weather is miserable. My mom always tells the story that I would stay inside during snowfall when I was a little kid. While all the other children were building snowmen and having snowball fights, I'd just sit inside and wait for spring to come around. So it is very ironic, and somewhat humorous, that I chose to attend college in upstate New York, a place where winter temperatures regularly fall below 0 degrees Fahrenheit and where snowfall is seemingly a daily occurrence. I've learned to deal with the weather, coping with a sort of begrudging patience instead of the pure hibernation of my primitive years.
Tonight's forecast calls for a low around 40 degrees, and that is to remain pretty consistent for the next week or two. However, judging by the past three years I've lived in Oneonta, NY, it'll probably be frigid by no later than Halloween. As I mentioned, that's all fine right now. But I am supposed to start throwing a baseball on November 10th, and continue on a very specific program from then on. The indoor facilities at school are outstanding, but they are shared by every other sport on campus. The scheduling of the facilities could become somewhat of a problem in the winter, and it's not exactly like I'd have the option to throw outside with three feet of snow on the ground and a daily high temperature of 3 degrees.
I guess I'll use that benevolent support group some more, and continue with my patience. As the old adage goes... I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. For now it's onto the next one: Tomorrow morning's physical therapy session; the single most important day in my recovery. Once that's done then it'll be onto Friday's therapy session; the single most important day in my recovery. And once that's done it'll be onto Monday's therapy session, the single most important day in my recovery. And so on, and so on...
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