Staying Focused and Motivated Through Hell

2019 was by far the hardest year of my life. Before I relay the story of everything that happened, let me introduce myself. My name is Angie, I am 31 years old, and I am an immigration attorney by trade. I moved to the NYC area four years ago after graduating from law school and started training Muay Thai and Brazilian Jiu Jitsu about six months later. I currently train at Renzo Gracie Academy in Manhattan. So far, I have reached the rank of Blue Belt in BJJ and I have competed several times in IBJJF and Grappling Industries tournaments. While I intend to practice both martial arts until my body literally will not let me, my shorter term goal is to do at least one amateur MMA fight. 

The Morning From Hell 

On January 5, 2019, I came home from spending a month training at Phuket Top Team. The next morning I woke up in the most excruciating pain. My stomach was severely distended in a way that I had never experienced before. I had absolutely no idea what was wrong. I thought maybe it was dehydration, but after chugging a bunch of coconut water, I proceeded to throw up all of it, including half of my dinner from the previous night. The pain worsened and it got to the point where I could not even sit upright. I sat in a curled position, crying and moaning in pain. After about two hours, I called my father, who is a former general surgeon to ask his advice on what to do. We agreed that it was time to call 911. 

For someone who has only gone to the ER once before, I was surprised how many times I had to repeat my symptoms: while on the phone, in the ambulance, in the waiting room, when being checked into the ER, and finally, to the surgeon. When in severe pain, this is a less than fun thing to do. 

I was in the waiting room for probably an hour before I saw the ER intake person. Let me tell you, this woman did not help. She was incredibly unsympathetic. When I say that I generally have a high pain tolerance and that I am not much of a whiner, I mean it. Now, I am sitting there, curled over, in the worst pain of my life, moaning and crying, and she tells me that I need to calm down. If I had not been in such a bad state, I swear, I would have decked the woman. After explaining my symptoms for the umpteenth time, I was wheeled to one of those split rooms with a curtain down the middle, where I sat for about two hours. 

I suddenly remembered that I was supposed to meet with a client to prepare her for her naturalization interview the next day. I clearly was not going to make that appointment, so I called my boss to let him know that I was waiting in the ER and that I would update him when I had a chance… 

At one point, I started to cough horribly and I thought I was going to vomit, so I ran to the trash can that was on the opposite side of my curtain. It turned out that I was just dry heaving, but my dear friend the ER intake woman yelled at me and told me that I had to stay on my side of the curtain. I remember thinking, “okay, well, next time I will just vomit on the floor and you can clean it up.” Really, this woman deserves an employee of the year award. (Side note, I made a note of this to the surgeon later on. I told him to tell her to be a bit kinder to people who are near death). After a while the pain got so bad that I actually just ran out of tears. Yes, that is right, I ran out of tears. I then slipped in and out of what felt like a fugue state. I knew where I was, but I also felt like I was outside of myself. 

Above is a picture of my wristband in the hospital. Bands now apparently include a picture of the patient. It is a bit blurry, but I can certainly tell that I was in a lot of pain from my facial expression. I actually wanted to keep it when I was discharged but I was not allowed to. 

Finally, I was taken to get a CAT Scan. Because the nurses knew that I was likely going to have some sort of procedure done, they would not let me drink anything but you have to drink this weird tasting concoction before undergoing a CAT Scan. I have never been so happy to have any sort of cold beverage. It tastes absolutely horrible, but I was so grateful to just have something. My mouth was really dry from vomiting so many times earlier in the morning. The ice was a godsend. After the CAT Scan, the surgeon told me that they could not discern exactly what was wrong but that I had some sort of blockage and they were going to have to operate. They anticipated a much smaller surgery, but that went to hell. My dad was very concerned. Any time the surgeon came to talk to me I just called my dad and handed my phone to the surgeon. Let them figure out the details. 

By this time, I was in so much pain that I did not care. I just wanted them to bring me the forms to sign and put me under. I was given a morphine drip, but it did not help much. When the anesthetist finally came to see me, I only had one question, “how long until you put me to sleep?” 

Post-Op 

Several hours later, I woke up in a hospital room, groggy and in pain. I was in less pain than before, but still in a lot of pain. It turned out that the tendons that connect the colon to the pelvic bone twisted around my colon and caused a section of it to die. The dead bowel caused me to go into septic shock. The surgeon removed 18 inches of my colon, part of my small intestine, part of my bowel, and the remains of my ruptured appendix. Fun time, right? Oh, and I had 20 staples sealing my stomach together. My dad later told me that I was within a couple hours of death. Joy. 

Staples about one week after surgery. 

I was in the hospital for a total of five days, Sunday through Thursday. The first day I was so out of it that I could not even watch TV. I could only listen to music and my big achievement for the day was getting up for just long enough to sit upright in a chair. The morphine still did not do the trick for me, so I had to take Dilaudid. For those who are not familiar with the medication, this is basically hospital-grade heroin. I was on that for the first three days, before they downgraded me to morphine and then to percocet. 

For those same first three days, I was on a liquid diet. My meals consisted of broth, tea, jello, and Italian ice. I was not really hungry, so it did not really matter much to me. To add even more fun to the mix, I had a cough and had to press a pillow against my stomach every time I coughed to ease the pressure on my stomach.

My super excited face in the hospital - day 1 after surgery. 

With each day I was able to move around a little bit more, emphasis on little. Getting out of bed was a huge pain because I could not use my stomach muscles. I remember having to lower the back of the hospital bed and then doing a sort of log roll to get off the bed. By the last two days, I was able to do some very slow laps around the hospital floor. I was lucky to be walking at a pace of about 2 mph, using my IV stand for balance. It was quite the relief to be discharged that Thursday and sleep in my own bed. 

I spent the next week at home. I was too weak to really go anywhere. To give an idea of just how much this impacted my body, I lost 15 pounds, my hairline receded, and I experienced a severe reduction in brain function. When I tried to work, I would max out my concentration in about an hour or two. I tried to come into NYC to stop by the office and watch the noon BJJ class to give me something to do and try to resume some sort of a normal life. I remember being a little scared walking down 8th Avenue for fear that someone would bump into me. I could only wear really baggy clothing. Anything that put the slightest pressure on my stomach hurt. 

Last day in Thailand - January 2019. 

One week after surgery - January 2019. 

Staying Motivated

For motivation, I reminded myself that I did not spend a month in Thailand training for several hours a day and getting in the best shape of my life to lose it all because of a freak accident. I was determined to get back to training as soon as I could, even if it was limited. Just watching class made me feel better. It was a while before I had the energy to get to the gym early enough to watch Muay Thai, which starts at 7 AM, but I made a point to do that as soon as I could. Making a point to watch classes and do work in between or after gave me some much needed structure.  I was fortunate that my apartment building has a gym in it, so I could do some exercises to start to regain my strength. At times I felt so weak and infantile, walking slowly and riding the recumbent bike, but it was all that I could do. My mantra, of sorts, was that I had to challenge myself a little more each day, but remember that going overboard would only set me back. When I was finally able to start jogging again, I referred to it as my “geriatric run.” 

Home workout… 

Returning to Normal-ish 

After a few weeks, I started to at least do the technique portion of Danaher’s class (I could not handle wearing a gi or doing the warm up for the gi classes). I wore a waist trainer around my stomach to give it extra protection because I could not handle any pressure or impact. My long-time training partner, George, was very helpful and made sure to do all of the drills super lightly with me. After the drilling rounds, I would sit against the wall with the other “invalids” and watch the live rounds - there was always at least one other person who was injured in some way or another. I joked that where we sat was the “wall of invalids.” Gradually, I was able to start doing light rolls as long as there was no knee-on-belly and doing Muay Thai as long as there was no impact to my stomach. Everyone in the morning Muay Thai classes were aware of my situation and really helped me get back to it. We named my scar “Oscar,” a pun on “oss” and “scar.” 

How Oscar looks now, not bad if I do say so myself. 

I have watched documentaries about how basic humans become when they are struggling for survival. I did not really understand it before, I do now. I lost my personality for a month. I did not really feel human. Rather, it was more like I was some creature literally just going through the motions to survive. I did not have enough energy to express much emotion. After about a month, one of the ladies from the gym saw me on the street. She told me she could tell it was me because I looked like I wanted to kill someone, my general facial expression. That was the beginning of “getting my swagger back.” 

In addition to losing my personality, I lost significant physical strength and brain function. This was incredibly frustrating because I was at the peak of my fitness and suddenly lost it all. I could not lift more than ten pounds for a month and it took three to four months before I could even run at a normal pace. My Instagram stories were highlights of my “slight improvement for the day.” Brain function was another story. I did not want to read for the first four months unless I absolutely had to because it took too much brain energy. This says a lot considering how much I LOVE reading. I was a history major and initially wanted to become a professor of Russian history. To top it off, I am someone who can usually fall asleep and stay asleep at the drop of a hat. (Ask my mother, there are some hilarious stories of me falling asleep at the most random times in the most random places as a young child). However, I could not sleep through the night for about six or seven months and I could only fall asleep listening to a specific playlist. Coincidentally, it was the same amount of time before I even had an interest in reading in Russian (my second language).

Gaining Weight

The worst part of the whole “returning to normal” process was the fact that I had to deal with gaining a lot of weight back. Weight has been an issue for me for a long time because I have had an eating disorder since I was 14. I was almost hospitalized for it twice. 

The weight loss took me back to some places mentally that I worked very, very hard to overcome. While I did not go back to my lowest weight, I got close and that was a problem. During my initial recovery in high school, reaching certain weights was a big deal. I had to re-reach the one that was the hardest to reach and surpass it to get back to normal. Going through the motions of forcing myself to eat and accept weight gain as a good thing is an experience that I really did not enjoy. I wavered back and forth between wanting to stay so skinny to wanting to get my strength back. There were definitely some moments when I thought to myself that it would have been easier if I had just died. I did not want to feel or think any of the feelings or thoughts that I had. I was not mad or resentful about what happened, I just did not want to be. I worked hard to get past these thoughts and feelings before, I did not want to have to do it again. Talking about it with others was and continues to be mostly an exercise in futility and frustration. Some people who have not gone through it can at least intellectually understand the way anorexics think, but my experience is that most do not. They keep trying to insert reason into the conversation. The point is that anorexia is not reasonable, it is not rational. That is why people are hospitalized for it. 

What made the situation all the more frustrating was that EVERY DAY someone at the gym would comment on my weight and tell me that I needed to eat. The response in my head every time was, “Really? Thank you for telling me, I had no idea. By the way, every meal is a struggle mentally and physically because, OH WAIT, I just had a large chunk of my digestive track removed. Please, keep reminding me. Would you like to hear the physical and emotional pain I go through during each meal right now?” The situation, for lack of a better phrase, was a complete mindfuck. I made a point to thank George for never once commenting about my weight. 

A common thing for people with eating disorders to do is to eat the same thing on a daily basis. It provides a sense of control when the need to eat is something outside of our control. It is a form of restriction that makes us feel safe, or at least safer. For about eight months I ate the same thing for dinner everyday. It got to the point where my husband and I just called it “meal.” It was not really until I went to Thailand again in February of this year that I started to expand my food horizons again. 

The Importance of BJJ and Muay Thai

BJJ and Muay Thai were crucial for keeping me focused on recovering in a healthy way because they gave me clear milestones that helped me recognize when, where, and how I was improving. In the beginning, I mostly focused on just being able to move and get technique down. I had no strength to use and could not really withstand anyone using strength against me. With time, I was able to mark some solid milestones. For example, it was a big deal when I could actually do the warm up in Muay Thai and start to take light punches or kicks to the stomach. Other big milestones were when I could withstand knee-on-belly and do a sprawl. The milestones were important not just because they signified that I was getting better, but also because they helped me maintain a positive attitude. 

Despite my best efforts, some days just sucked. The worst days were the ones when I experienced genuine reminders of just how much the surgery impacted me psychologically and physiologically. One day, I was getting really frustrated with a drill because I just felt weak and I could not do it the way that I knew it should be done. I stopped drilling and sat against the wall, holding my head, shaking in frustration. Those were the types of days when I had to take myself off the mats or desperately hold myself together until I got into the locker room and cried in the shower. I tried not to show my frustration or make a huge deal of everything. I wanted to focus on training, not what happened to me. It was important for me to show up, do what I could, and come back the next day.  

The people at the gym were really helpful, well, when they were not commenting on my weight. The women, in particular, were great. Berit, the mother of us all, always made sure to check in. She was also terrified when she saw that I was sitting on the mats soon after surgery, fearful that my wound would get infected. I remember we were about to do one drill that required something with abs and she just looked at me and said, “that is between you and your higher power.” I laughed. Cynthia made sure to ask all the fun questions about my digestion, haha. It was helpful to be able to openly talk about that. ;) Rambo was always extra cautious with me and helped me gradually test Oscar’s ability to take punches and kicks, something I desperately needed if I was going to follow through with my plans to return to Thailand. This is not to discount some of the men at the gym by any means. Several made sure to check in with me and ask me how I was recovering on a regular basis. Black Rob developed a habit of gradually squeezing my hand harder and harder before I left everyday as a way of signifying the improvements in my health. (Yes, that is his nickname, no, I am not being racist). George knew that I was just going to do what I was going to do and made sure to be there for me as a drilling partner as much as he could. Every now and then he would comment that he kept forgetting that I was still recovering from almost dying and definitely discouraged my return to Thailand. Haha. That being said, an experience like this made me see very clearly who is genuinely kind, caring, and/or my friend in comparison to those who just did not care. I was not offended or surprised by the large majority of those who did not. I became a lot closer with some people, some others I am okay never speaking to again. It is what it is. 

A Year Later 

The bright side is that I have largely recovered. I still have some issues due to the nature of the surgery, but I can spar and compete. I started competing in BJJ in September, nine months after my surgery. I did not win, but I was so glad to be able to compete again. Just being back on the mats in a competitive setting meant so much to me. Of course, it was much easier to get back to full rolling than it was full sparring in Muay Thai. After almost an entire year off from sparring Muay Thai, it was hard to get used to getting kicked and punched again, even lightly. There were times when I almost had a panic attack because of it. But, again, my goals in martial arts kept me going. I was determined to get back into it and get better than I was before. I went to Thailand again to train for the month of February and I had a great time. I did all the rolling, sparring, and wrestling that I could. With the current pandemic, who knows when any of us will be back on the mats again, but rest assured, I am doing everything I can to stay in shape while the gym is closed and I will be the first one to show up when the doors are unlocked. 

Stamp for No Gi Pans - September 2019. 

MMA Sparring class in Thailand - February 2020.