Volleyball

This story is a favourite of mine - even though it is also one of my most significant pivots, and heartbreaks, in life due to illness. 

Volleyball. 

Volleyball for me was always on par with, and often above, my love for music. The moment I touched that damn ball I was hooked. I played all through junior high on both school and city club teams as well as attending camps through the summers. I was pretty damn good and had a wicked vertical: I played middle. 

In grade eight I was pulled out of practice one day by a University talent scout. I was asked if I had given any thought to where I may want to attend University (I hadn't... I was 13 years old and literally just trying to survive each school day). That scout was a representative for both U of M and UBC, so I was encouraged to give it some real thought. 

The next year is when I first got sick, though I still played school and city club ball. For grade 10 I was in hospital during tryouts, so I didn't play school ball. Then grade 11 came, and even though I was incredibly nervous, I attended tryouts. This was not easy. Firstly, I hadn't played school ball in a year and was terrified I'd be too rusty and would make a complete ass of myself. Secondly, it was made inescapably clear by the other girls that I was not welcome. It didn't matter that I had played every sport - in and out of school - with these girls the previous four years. When I showed up they huddled together, turned their backs, and pretended that I did not exist. Like children - pretending I was invisible. 

But I did exist. 

And I made the senior team, playing middle - at 5'7" I was the shortest middle in the league. 

Well, that year was incredible - even though I ended up hospitalized after every single tournament. My name was in the local newspaper regularly, I got to visit the UBC campus, compete in international tournaments, and by mid-late season I was a starting middle. I was, again, approached by scouts. I was told that I would be getting multiple offers in my senior year and that I would essentially have my choice of schools for full-ride volleyball scholarships. (I had my heart set on UBC by this point). 

By the end of the season I was at an all-time high. Even Coach told me to keep my jersey over the summer for the following year instead of returning it like everyone else. 

Then August came and my body had other plans. I had emergency open abdominal surgery to remove my large intestine. This meant a lot of different struggles, but a big one was that I couldn't play volleyball. My senior year, with prospective scholarship offers, and my ticket to get outta dodge and play the game I loved so much, was gone. On the first day of school I reluctantly handed in my jersey (number 9),with some tears. 

So I pivoted and focused, as best I could, on academia and music. 

That year was tough. I had a temporary ostomy, I got mono that year, had my second abdominal surgery a month before graduation, and had developed problems with my pancreas, liver, and thyroid, along with some particularly nasty side effects from Prednisone. After the second surgery I was technically 'cured' of Ulcerative Colitis, but it only took a few months to then be diagnosed with Crohn's Disease. Not like high school isn't already tough enough, right? 

It was obvious by then that I would have to stay closer to home after graduating - which in and of itself a question mark because of my health. 

I did receive several academic scholarships to the local University, so that's where I went. Unfortunately, that school did not have a volleyball team. So I focused on a combined degree with double majors: Music and Psychology. 

I could have gone to the local college instead and tried out for their team, but I was realizing that the high level of competition might not be physically attainable, and I had my sights set on a more reputable education if I couldn't play ball. So I joined some recreational leagues instead, just to keep me on the court. A few years, and a few additional medical conditions, later it was clear that I likely wouldn't have been able to play for long even if I happened to make a college team. My body was simply too unreliable. 

I loved University, I loved academia, and I am proud of everything I have been able to attain. I know it's not always good to dwell on past accomplishments - I mean, it was just high school, right? But it is nice sometimes to look back and remember that I must have had something special - I must have had some talent, and no one can take that away from me. At one point in my life I was good enough at something to warrant being scouted by University scouts - starting at age 13! That's pretty damn cool. 

It's a major reason why being able to get back into volleyball recently feels like such a huge deal after years of using canes, walkers, and wheelchairs - which I still require sometimes. Volleyball was my second true love - second to music. (My husband, Ryan, takes the cake though - don't worry, after meeting you, you'll always be my top true love) ;). 

Life and illness have pushed me in various directions, changed my course, forced me to ride the wave instead of fight against it and I don't regret it, but I do miss it. I also wonder how different my life may have been had it not changed course when it did, or at all. I'm lucky enough to be truly happy, so my wondering never feels like regret or depressed longing, just curiosity and imagination. And I will always have those years that I played, when it felt like I had an entire world of opportunity ahead. 

If you've never truly loved a sport, hobby, or activity, this entire post will likely seem borderline idiotic... but if you have, then you know what it might feel like to have it, then lose it, then have it, then lose it again, then be able to come back to it years down the road. 

Volleyball ?

Okay - some of THE best news! 

I have been able to play a tiiiiiiny bit of volleyball! 

If you know me (or have been following along with this blog), you'll know that Volleyball and Music were my first loves. You'd be hard-pressed to find a more genuine connection to an activity. When I was young, my life-long goal was to play professional volleyball - and I was offered multiple opportunities to pursue that dream, but my health complications had other plans. 

As an adult I joined more than a few volleyball leagues - some recreational, some very competitive. From 2004-2012 I would play on various teams. At the height of my playing, I would be on 2 or 3 teams full-time and then subbing for up to 10 different teams - I would spend approximately 15-20 hours per week on the court. 

Then, in 2012, everything changed. It's when I developed Ankylosing Spondylitis. I tried simply reducing the amount of volleyball I was playing, but it was no use. Within the first year of that diagnosis, volleyball was virtually impossible. That's when I focused more on light stretching and yoga: less impact and much slower. Over the next years I would be using a cane, then a wheelchair, on various pain medications, and severely struggling to even walk. 

But then I was weaned off of pain medication and my physician sent me to get Radio-Frequency Ablation in 2020. Essentially, the nerves in my SI joints and lower spine are burned so that I can't feel as much pain. Suddenly, I found myself being able to walk a bit better. I wasn't limping from the pain because I couldn't feel it where I normally felt it! (I should mention here that the disease is still there and active, but I simply can't feel the damage). What this has allowed me to do is increase my levels of activity - slowly. 

The ablation procedure was a success, so I got it redone in 2021 and 2022. During those years (before the nerves grew back), I was able to do some joint and muscle strengthening. I built up some strength, a little bit of stamina, and kept my body moving as much as possible. 

Now, after a volleyball hiatus of ten years, including two years of re-building a bit of strength, I wanted to see how my body would respond to getting back out on that court. I have only substituted twice so far, and I am extremely rusty, but I was able to hold my own for the most part. I am pleased to note that all of my instincts are still there - the muscle memory is real. Everything else needs a bit of work, and after the first night I was extremely ill and in a lot of pain everywhere, but the second time I took it more easily and conserved a lot of energy for a better outcome. 

At this point, it's looking like I might be able to play now and then - as long as the ablation continues to work. It may not be as competitive, and I have definitely lost a ton of strength and stamina, but I can play a little bit!! 

I truly thought that part of my life was over and done with - especially the years I was having to use the wheelchair for the most basic outings. Being able to dust off my ankle braces, court shoes, and volleyball shorts is a happiness I can't really describe. I feel as though I have gotten some of my identity back! I feel a little more like myself - and damn does it feel good! 

The Lighter Side of: Limits

Chronic illness has an inventive way of limiting what we do, or more accurately, how we do things.
Having illness does not necessarily mean that we have to stop doing things that we love. What illness tends to do is force us to prioritize what is more important.
Every person has a limitation of some kind. Perhaps there are financial obligations to be met. There are only 24 hours in a day, and people cannot live for long on zero sleep. Our physical bodies do have limitations, so even the average person must decide what they can do, what they must do, and what they would like to do, and find a balance between those three.
Now, if you add in malfunctions of that physical body, those limitations may be altered. Sometimes, if we are lucky, it will allow us to do things that average people cannot. For the vast majority of situations, though, illness may force us to give up certain activities or to go about them in a different manner.

This is not all bad.
Learning that you can still enjoy what you love even if you have to go about it differently is a true eye-opener. Suddenly the world seems to have fewer limits.
Limitations encourage us to prioritize, to really take stock of our lives and decide what we want to be doing.
It also forces us to come to terms with real-life consequences.

When I was playing volleyball competitively, after every single tournament, I would wind up in the ER and sometimes even admitted to the hospital for a couple of days. I would have significant bleeding in my intestines, severe dehydration, drastic weight loss, and I would require additional nutrition and fluids pumped into my veins.
For me, volleyball was worth every bad flare and every awful episode.

After developing Ankylosing Spondylitis, however, when I tried playing volleyball, that ended up being the only thing I could do. My joints would grind together and cause excruciating pain, pain that even I could not ignore. Suddenly I could not jump serve or even overhand serve. My spiking was limited - I could no longer jump as high and my shoulder blades would be on fire.
What did this do?
This forced me to change my position. After years and YEARS of playing Middle or Power positions, I had to learn how to be a setter. I had previously thought this was absolutely unattainable.
As it turns out, I was a decent setter!
I wasn't amazing, but I could manage basic sets, as well as some 3
51s, 33s, shoot sets, and even some 75s, 71s, and the odd 31. That was more than I ever thought was possible with my setting skills. I learned how to pass better as well and became more confident in my entire game, instead of primarily spiking and serving.
Unfortunately, several months after that, the pain became too unbearable to even manage that. The running, diving, and the pressure on my SI joint and hips were far too great to justify the sport.

My softball performances had a similar trajectory. After years of playing the bases or even shortstop on occasion, and sometimes field, I could not longer play those positions. Even running the bases became too painful. My body was losing muscle, and quickly. I was becoming weaker and my joints were becoming stiffer. So what did I do? I played back-catch and we had a runner for me a lot of the time. Of course, that too came to an end, but for the time I played back-catch I really enjoyed myself!! I was always comfortable on the field, never scared of the ball, which made that position even more fun! I proceeded to wear cute little pink outfits and intentionally look like a guest back-catch that was just there to fill a spot, and then play my little heart out. Batting was still something I could do, I just could no longer run. I was on a more competitive recreational team, and requiring a runner was too much hassle, so I left softball. But I know I can still hit. I know I can still catch. One day I may join a fully recreational/beer-league team just to get back out there.

I, instead, turned to other activities.
Rather than putting all of my energy into one activity I cannot even give 100% at anymore, I decided to spread my interests around several things.
I always felt limited artistically to music.... but it turns out that I was able to learn. I have learned how to draw and paint simple projects, and I learn more and more each and every day.

I grew up believing I had many limitations.
Now I know that my limitations rest in my body, and that even then, if I really put my mind to it, I can do so much more than it feels. It is all a matter of sacrifice and risk.
There are certain things I am willing to risk for my health, but so many others that I cannot risk my health to do.
I do have to be more careful in general. I do have to watch the amount of pressure I put on my joints and the amount of risk I take with my physical health. What used to take me a few days to recover now takes weeks or months. An injury now takes months or even an entire year to recover from. I have had to make really tough decisions on what is worth the risk. These days, resting in bed and practicing yoga are the two main components of my life. I can spend one day every few weeks doing something more active or leaving the house for a date or a night with friends. After a day like that, it takes me weeks to recuperate. So I have to choose my activities wisely. If I over-do it, it is not just a matter of 'sleeping it off'. It is about more injections, trips to the emergency room, increases in medication, and flare-ups of multiple conditions that have me writhing in pain 24 hours a day.  Risking those consequences for a simple game is no longer a priority. If I am going to have a major fall-out like that, it has to be something I truly enjoy.

The Lighter Side of limits is that whenever there is another limitation thrown my way, another limitation has lifted in some fashion.

I find it so intriguing how many limitations we place upon ourselves that are a figment of our imaginations - like not being good at something. We need to remember that we are able to learn. Illness has taught me, above anything else, that our bodies and minds are adaptable, changeable, and able to be conditioned.
So when your body says "no", look in another direction.

My body may not allow me to run or even walk very far, but that is what we have tools like canes and wheelchairs for! My body may not allow me to be awake very long each day, but that is when I can take advantage of the days I feel a little bit better. My body may not allow me to play team sports anymore, but that is what yoga, swimming, and even obstacle courses are for. I do not have to be 'good' at everything, but I am willing to try anything to see what my new limitations are, because those are ever-changing.

So Many Paths

I think we all dream a little bit of how different things might be if we had made certain decisions over others.

I don't feel any regret over the paths I have taken. I have made mistakes, like anyone else, but it is not as though I regret pursuing music, education, or any of the other passions I have jumped right into.
I do wonder, though, how different my life may have gone if I had chosen a different path from the very beginning.

What if I had chosen to dive into dance instead of taking that part in Sound of Music when I was 8 years old?

What if I had decided to quit basketball instead of quitting piano once I achieved a grade 6 level of Royal Conservatory?

What if I had taken a year off of school before starting University to audition for more musicals, or taking more dance classes?

What if I had chosen to try out for UBC volleyball like I had wanted to rather than staying in my hometown more for medical reasons and to dive into education?

Where would I be?
How far could I have really gone with dancing? How far could I have gone if I had put ALL of my energy into volleyball? Or piano? Or if I had decided to go to culinary school instead?

I would love to experience all of those different versions of my life - not because of regret but because of curiosity.
I love my life. I would not change anything. I simply wonder, sometimes, what might have happened if I cultivated one talent 100% - and tried various pathways.

P.s. this is coming from watching This Is Us. I really miss dancing. I miss dancing. I miss volleyball. I wish I could have done schooling and training and reached mastery in everything all at once.

Best Life Decisions

We all make decision after decision after decision every single day. Most are menial, but others are monumental.

I want to celebrate some of the best decisions I have ever made.

Pursuing an undergraduate degree in Music and Psychology. I loved all of my courses. I loved my time in University and I loved everything I learned.

Moving to Calgary. Staying in Alberta instead of packing up and moving all the way to Ontario. Staying close to family.

Traveling. A lot. Traveling while I felt well enough to so. Traveling before I developed arthritis... before my HAE was discovered... before I couldn't work anymore.

Cherishing friendships that are deep and meaningful, and letting go of relationships and friendships that were not meant to be for forever.

Focusing on volleyball first. Ignoring all of the good-hearted people who wanted me to slow down... not knowing in only a few years I'd be forced to slow down. Playing as many hours a day as I could - while I could.

Adopting Decker. There are too many reasons to list all of them.

Relenting and going off of work. Don't get me wrong here AT ALL - I miss working. If I could trade all of this illness and work like a dog until I am 70 years old, I would. Being off of work has improved my stress levels by a significant amount. My health is a little less unstable, and I am not constantly in the emergency department. I hate that I cannot physically work, but I am beyond grateful that I had the option and did not immediately have to move back into my parents' basement when it happened.

Dating RJ. For very obvious reasons.

Getting surgery last January. That surgery has improved some pain and it has removed some stresses OUT of the equation entirely. Just fewer stresses. Something so small makes a big difference at home.

Taking chances even when they might seem impossible.

Getting back into writing.

Continuing to sing once in a while - mostly for funerals, weddings, fundraisers, and retirement homes. I get to sing all the time for people who just love music. It is rewarding in a way I never realized I needed.

Branching out and learning new skills while continuing to learn and improve current skills.

But the BEST decision, the big kahuna of all of em, the number one decision that paved the way for everything:

☆Deciding to FIGHT every single day, through every pain, every symptom, every side effect, and make a commitment to fight to live no matter what. Deciding that my life is precious and amazing and worth fighting for, no matter what kind of obstacles I will face.☆

Once that moment came and I made that decision - consciously and specifically - it is the sentiment I always come back to whenever I am struggling. I promised. I decidedly promised - to me, to my parents, to my future husband (who was only imaginary back then), and to God - that I would fight no matter what.

No matter what.