From Wheelchair to 5K: How 343 Hours Changed My Life

A couple of weeks ago, I had my last physical therapy appointment. 

I have been going to physical therapy appointments regularly since my brain hemorrhage in January 2020. 

I looked back at my calendar and did some math to discover I have had over 343 hours  (that’s 20,580 minutes!) of physical and/or occupational therapy over the past five years.

In mid-January 2020, after being flown by helicopter to a Level 1 trauma center two hours from my home and spending two weeks there, I was transferred by ambulance to an inpatient rehab hospital. 

When I arrived at the new hospital, I couldn’t sit up unassisted, could barely hold my head up, had left neglect (which means I wasn’t aware of and couldn’t see anything to my left), and was fully paralyzed on the left side of my body. I had essentially been in bed for about two weeks.

Over the next few weeks with the help of my incredible occupational therapist, Dianna, my rockstar physical therapist, Kayla, and her amazing student intern, Matthew, I made tremendous progress at the new facility. 

I also learned so much about the tools and resources modern technology has made available in the realms of occupational and physical therapy. During my time in the hospital, I was hooked to robotic machines that helped simulate walking on a treadmill, strapped into a frame that allowed me to stand with minimal assistance, hooked to a harness that held my body weight so I could simulate a walking motion, and even had electrical stimulation on my muscles via small needles and electrodes to cause my muscles to contract. I spent what seemed like countless hours leaning forward and then side to side, sliding towels and objects across the surface of a table in an effort to regain my balance and core strength. I used a large touch screen TV to locate and tap objects as a way to combat the left neglect that had robbed my left peripheral vision. 

Kayla and Matthew distracted me during the toughest sessions by talking about anything and everything, playing card games with me, and even surprising me by showing up in my room with cake for breakfast on my birthday.

Although I was still in a wheelchair and facing a very uncertain future when I was finally released and heading home after 43 days in the hospital, I was encouraged by my progress and eager to continue with the therapy exercises I knew were helping.

Less than a week after I was released from the hospital, I began outpatient therapy at our local hospital, just in time for a global pandemic.  

For the next 18 months, I faithfully attended over 75 sessions of therapy with a dream team of therapists and staff members, all of us masked up and uncertain about the chaos happening across the globe. This crew became like family, cheering me on every time I showed up. 

Kyla, my occupational therapist, played praise and worship music as she put me through the drills and stretches designed to help me regain functional mobility. She faithfully measured my range of motion and we celebrated every small degree of progress. She patiently encouraged me as I worked to place small pegs in a pegboard with my left hand, used stretchy bands to strengthen my shoulder muscles, and practiced various movements and exercises designed to help me with daily life.

Natalie pushed me to do more than I ever thought possible, challenging me in new ways and not taking no for an answer. I am so grateful that she never backed down and had such unwavering faith in me. I will never forget the first time I walked without a walker for support, Natalie there right beside me as I took each tentative step during that 15 foot walk that felt like a mile. I also remember months later, carefully walking down 5 flights of stairs with her, and making my way carefully around a huge rock formation filled with large gravel located on the hospital grounds. 

Natalie is tough, but I love that about her. I once joked that I had dropped some ice at work and just kicked it under the fridge instead of picking it up. Immediately, Natalie added bending over to touch small orange cones on the floor to our routine. 

When I mentioned how much I hated getting up from the floor and how hard it was, she told me I needed to make myself get down on the floor and get back up everyday until it got easier. No shortcuts allowed! I added the torturous exercise to my at-home routine, and she was right. It still wasn’t fun, but it did get easier. 

Natalie helped me acquire an AFO brace, which was an absolute game changer in my progress and allowed me the ability to walk with more ease and confidence. She was also the first professional to tell me that she felt sure I would be able to walk on my own without even a cane one day. The boost of confidence that simple statement gave me was priceless. 

Sabrina is a firecracker, and her infectious optimism and encouragement during our sessions made me want to work harder, just because I knew how proud she was of the work we were putting in. I will never forget her crazy antics, like announcing to the entire therapy floor that “we have booty action!” when I was finally able to contract my glute muscles. She also made me walk down the halls and secretly recruited every available staff member to “accidentally” bump against me or quickly come around the corner to startle me as a way to simulate maneuvering around school hallways full of students, something I would need to manage when I returned to work. She made physical therapy fun, and even on the hard days, she always managed to make me laugh.

On my last day of therapy, my husband and I arrived with some simple treats for this special group to show our appreciation only to discover they had planned a party complete with balloons, gifts, cards, a personalized tshirt they had made just for me, and even a gift for my husband. They are truly an amazing group of people. 

After a 12 month break, I knew I had more work to do and needed a little “boost” to keep me on track with improving. 

I scheduled an appointment with my doctor and got a referral to resume outpatient physical therapy at a local clinic. There, I was lucky enough to begin working with Andrew, my last physical therapist. 

Andrew is never shy about sharing his faith, and he and I bonded during my therapy sessions over the next 2+ years. 

When I started with him, I thought I had already seen every trick in the physical therapy handbook, but he threw some new ones my way – new stretches, chiropractic work, strength training, massage, and new tools and routines.

During our therapy sessions, Andrew was alway positive, always problem-solving, and always looking for ways to help me continue getting better. 

When I started working with him in the summer of 2022, I told him I wanted to work on building my walking balance, endurance, and speed. At the time, my average walking pace was over 35 minutes per mile. 

When I went to my last appointment with him, my average pace had dropped to just 20 minutes per mile. 

I also finished that 5K this past March with an average pace of 19 minutes, 36 seconds per mile. Mission accomplished! 

Knowing my physical therapy  journey is ending is bittersweet. I know that probably sounds strange because so many people complain about how difficult, painful, and exhausting physical therapy can be. It definitely wasn’t easy, but I can’t help but be thankful for the experience. My therapists helped me get my life back, and for that, I am forever grateful.

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To learn more about my brain hemorrhage and recovery, check out my book, His Timing: A Journey of Faith, Hope, and Healing.