“They tried to make me go to rehab…”

And I said yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hell yeah, I said yeah. I want to get better. And stronger. My physical therapist, Dave, teased that I could be dubbed Lindsay Wagner of The Bionic Woman fame. I don’t really need her bionic legs that can go from 0 – 60 mph in seconds flat, but I want to run again — just a little. As great as my outlook is on this post, it hasn’t been all sparkly and easy. When the orthopod said “about three weeks,” I heard it but I didn’t hear it. My brain somehow translated his words to “well, I should have this nailed down in about 8 – 10 days.” Uh…no. Three weeks is three weeks is three weeks.

The work I do may be somewhat sedentary, but the rest of my life is far from it. There are kids to chase, drive around, drop off and pick up. There’s laundry to be hauled up and down three flights of stairs and carried in folded piles from room to room. There’s recycling to be hauled to the curb and lots of other daily tasks I took a little for granted until I had to have others do them for me.

I really felt humble when I was strong enough to navigate daily tasks last week but did so in more of a shuffle versus my world-famous 5’8″ stride. And don’t even get me started on the bitchfest that ensued in my brain when I tried to coach myself through it with my go-to questions: “What is this trying to teach me?” or “What am I making this mean about me? this slowing down?” That led to a few moments of telling me to kiss my own ass because I just wanted to sink into the pity and frustration a little more before I came up for air.

I’m finding my way, though, and I dare say it’s teaching me something. One of the hardest things for me to do is trust myself. I gather up information and ideas, discern, research and discern some more until I think I’m ready to decide or act. That is until I begin to scramble, question or freeze with these thoughts: What if I don’t know enough? What if no one comes? What if someone disagrees? What if someone doesn’t like that I wrote “bitch” and “ass” in the same paragraph? 

I think I gave myself a gift far bigger than a “knee arthroscopy: abrasion anthroplasty and lateral retinacular release for chondromalacia patella” eight days ago. I think I might be giving my brain a release to go towards the love and not scrambled chaos feelings I conjure up (thank you, Sarah Wagner Yost). I also like knowing I can let the fear or doubt simmer and have a conversation with it instead of trying to think my way out of it like that labryinth in The Shining (and thank you, too, Bridgette Boudreau).

So, as my dad might exclaim with his usual hyperbole: “Kiss my ass at 4th and Broadway…” maybe this convalescence is here to teach me more than I wanted to listen to a couple of days ago. I think my friend Nicole Bernardo said it best when she posted something for me on a Facebook thread:  “There is so much information to be received from yourself from a slow, indulgent recovery.”  So palms up, Wagner. And soon enough — when they (and you) are ready — the knees, too.


In a nutshell ~ what else is happening in shorter phrases, links or fragments. And offering up thanks.

In another post, I will wax poetic about the fantastic women who experienced and completed my recent weight loss coaching group here in Louisville. But for now, if  this is something you’re interested in, you have a shot at jumping aboard the next excursion I am offering beginning Thursday, September 6th: https://www.laura-wagner.com/upcoming-events-classes/. There’s way more goodness to be found in doing this work than dropping a dress size.  You won’t regret it.

There are still some spots open for the upcoming retreat I’m facilitating with my friend, coach and yoga goddess Stacey Shanks in late October. Get in here — clock’s tickin’: http://www.yogaandlife.com/how-i-can-help/happenings/soul-asylum/

I got the sweet gig of joining my colleague, Dr. Eli Karam, on August 12th for a radio talk show where we discussed infertility and adoption. Here’s an edited link for a listen: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gIS9FYACUR8 There’s far more for me to offer up in these two areas from both a personal and professional standpoint. I’ve looked back at my blog since April and it’s hard to believe I haven’t said more about these two issues as there are many women / couples dealing with this right now and they are thirsty for resources and support. More to come on this soon, for sure.

And just for fun — what have I been doing while I’ve been laid up? Well, for one, I’ve been pinning like it’s my job on Pinterest, creating playlists on Spotify (If you look up Laura McCauley Wagner in “People,” you’ll find my indulgences) and watching some Netflix (Mr. MomRear WindowThe Family StoneIn Her Shoes and season 1 of Downton Abbey (love it!). There’s a stack of tabloid magazines left for dead next to my bed. Of course, I caught up on lots of blogs and other work-ish material to better inform how I will help my people. Diversified time well spent.

Thank you for the well-wishes and Facebook likes earlier this month when I put up my post-surgery, Hydrocodone fueled thumbs-up in the recovery room. Encouragement is fuel.

Thanks to my supafly coach friend, Nancy Sinclair Brook, who is also a angel disguised as an orthopedic surgical nurse practitioner at Stanford: your late night call to walk me through what would happen and the best practices for healing were golden — and you took the time while you were on vacation in Hawaii, no less. Mahalo, surgery-whisperer.

Thanks to my PT, Dave Brown at Pinnacle Physical Therapy, for helping me heal and showing me my mindset can be the gift to help me stay the course when I’m not sure what progress is. Hey, a couple of full rotations on that Airdyne today — shoot, I did feel bionic. You guys run an awesome practice and I am grateful. And of course, gratitude to my beloved (the husband) for being who he is: awesome, hilarious, devoted, patient and, oh yeah — hilarious. And my mama for staying with us the whole weekend.

Have a great week everyone and remember, what matters most is how you see yourself:


“I wanna dance, and love, and dance again…”



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One thought on ““They tried to make me go to rehab…”

  1. Love, love love this, you bionic superhero of Love.