The week following the return-to-work discussion with the doctor, was my first real experience with heavy anxiety. Only I wasn’t aware of it. I was yet to identify it and see the signs and it would take me another 6 months to identify it, and another 12 months to be familiar with the signs of an incoming anxious week. 2 days after that encounter it was December 1st. A day usually filled with joy for me, as I put up my Christmas tree and decorations. If you know me, you will know that I am a Christmas nut! I love all things Christmas. The food, the music, the colours, everything! It always reminds me of being so happy as a child. One memory is firmly etched in my mind that encapsulates Christmas in its entirety for me. I would crawl under the Christmas tree and sit in the corner, looking out through the branches, colourful lights, and baubles as the fire raged across the room keeping us warm on frosty nights. Its funny the things that you remember from so long ago.
But this time all that joy was gone. Aswell as feeling the pressure of possibly returning to work so soon, I now had new compression garments. I couldn’t wait to receive these, but as soon as I had them, I hated them. They were so much tighter and uncomfortable than my original ones. These new compression garments were made from what can only be described as a fly mesh material. I was meant to wear a full sleeve top, socks, and full leg compression aswell. Before leaving my appointment that day I asked, “How long will I be in compression for?” OT: “You are looking at around 18 months”
There was no way I was putting my tree up now. My mood was foul. Ali was interstate for work at the time and called to see how my day was going. I just broke down on the phone. I wasn’t even completely sure why, but my emotions were high. At times I would feel fine, and seem to be handling everything well, but all it would take was for someone to ask how I am, and the tears would start. There was too much going on for my poor brain to handle – Pressure to return to work, new uncomfortable compression, possibly trapped in it for 18 months, the realisation that I had lost my businesses I worked so hard to build. Leaving the house was a no go as I wanted to move as little as possible so I could ignore how uncomfortable this new compression was.
As mentioned, I was meant to be wearing compression socks and a compression top to help with the healing. I never wore the socks. I did literally everything the doctors asked of me but I was drawing the line at these socks. And not long after receiving those new garments I ditched the top aswell. I would wear a sports compression top instead. I would only wear this during training, as I needed to feel slightly normal, I needed to feel my bedsheets on some part of my body. Just a small amount of comfort right now will make me happy. As the burns on the legs were the worst, I wore those garments 24/7. Although some days I could do all of the right things, and the itch would still come for me. Me and my brother went to watch a movie, and the aircon was broke. How convenient! By the time the movie finished and I was heading home I wanted to chop my legs off. Theres nothing quite like that itch. I scratched and scratched all the way home in the car, knowing full well it wasn’t a good Idea. Straight in a cold shower once I got home, then lay on the bed naked with the fan on to try cool the skin down.
My saving grace was fitness. When I could finally drive again, I would swap the shitty fly mesh compression for 2XU sports compression, and head out to my warehouse to train. I could turn the music up loud, and just focus on improving my strength and movement. There where times where I would dwell on my losses, but I tried to stay focussed on what I had not lost. I am ever grateful for those things. I mean, I escaped any internal damage from the electrical burns, I kept all of my limbs, no heart problems (arrhythmia etc) and I am here willing to prove to myself that I can beat this and get my strength and movement back. This anger that I feel will be my driving force to not let the burns define who I am.
When something shit happens to you, you have a few choices to make. Do I let this destroy me? Do I let it define me? Or do I learn from it, grow from it, and make it my bitch? Ill give you one guess as to what I was about to do.
Throughout December my sleep was deteriorating. I felt trash during the day but then at night I struggled to sleep. I started to develop a fear of sleeping. Mostly because I was having nightmares, but I also became paranoid that I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I can see how people spiral into drug use or alcohol abuse in times like this. Often, I would take some Xanax to get me to sleep, but only if I had 2 nights of no sleep. I didn’t want to take it every night as I didn’t want to become reliant on it. It just meant that I could get a decent rest before tackling the next days recovery.
You never really feel like you are getting very far with burns recovery. Im used to having injuries where you wake up the next day and feel a bit better, or a bit less sore. This seemed to be going the opposite way. Every day I was waking up stiffer and sorer. Every day I felt like the previous days work was for nothing. I still moved everyday though as I felt it would contribute to a good nights sleep aswell as the benefit of loosening the skin and getting strength back. As with everything, consistency is key here, so I tried to keep reminding myself that I just needed to keep pushing forward. These changes will happen slowly, but when you look back in a years’ time, as long as you maintain that consistency, your results will show. There was one day early on where I didn’t get to move or work on my recovery. I had a 6-hour interview with worksafe to discuss the events of that faithful day. I was in so much pain when I got home. So tight, so uncomfortable. I can now see how important it is for me to stick to my routine and keep stretching and moving daily. Its amazing how quickly the skin tightens when Im not fighting it. I cant imagine how much more uncomfortable I would be had I not been training since the day I left hospital. But I guess Ill never know what the other side of that coin was meant to look like. Because Im not interested in finding out. Im interested in finding out how quick I can get back in shape, and Ill be dammed if Im going to let this burnt skin stop me.
I really wanted to document this live for people to see my progress. But people (lawyers and insurance companies) don’t understand movement as medicine. They cant appreciate how lifting or training benefits the mind and the body. All they would see is that I was capable of lifting X amount of weight, and therefor should be able to return to work. For this reason I hid away in my garage or my warehouse (while I still had it) and kept the recovery process private. I didn’t want to give the other legal team any ammo to use against me. In the end, they did anyway. There are many forms of anxiety and depression. Some people cant function or leave their house. I had a high function for certain tasks, but once that was finished, I would sink back into the darkness. So its important to remember that looks can be deceiving. Just because someone looks fit and healthy, and seems to navigate society well in your eyes, doesn’t mean that in their head, and in that moment, they are not panicking inside. Fitness was the one part of my recovery I could control. I threw everything into it. It helped me mentally in more ways that I can explain. A sense of accomplishment, and achievement was hugely beneficial when I felt otherwise useless.
I couldn’t control the anxiety, I couldn’t control how quick my skin healed, but I could take control of my actions and push myself to get better.
The first few weeks of training looked like this: 1a) Landmine Press 3 x 8 reps
1b) KB Row 3 x 8 reps
2a) Deadhang 3 x as long as possible
2b) Push ups 3 x 10
3) KB Deadlift 3 x 10
4) Lunge 4 x 12
5) L – Sit 4 x as long as possible
I designed a simple program to help stretch out the skin and rebuild my strength and balance. I would train once a day for 30-45 mins depending on how I was feeling. Afterwards the process of showering, moisturising, re bandaging, and putting my compression back on would almost be a workout in itself. This would easily take another 30 minutes with me taking breaks and laying on the floor trying to find the energy to continue. Once I was feeling stronger in these movements and my mobility increased, I started to add the barbell back in. By mid-December I was deadlifting, strict pressing, and squatting again. Light weights of course, and the squats were nowhere near parallel as it was still too painful to squat lower but I was making progress. I started to add in some cardio. This would involve bodyweight movements and swinging a kettlbell. Thea, forever my biggest fan, would sit in the garage and cheer me on. This photo captured a beautiful moment after one of my first cardio sessions, where she came over to ask if I was ok and did I want a drink of water. I love this girl so much. She is has a heart of gold.
I saw the burns as a timely reminder of what to beat everyday and that kept me motivated. I wrote “I WILL NOT BE BEATEN” on the wall in my garage to fuel me every time I went in there. Soon I decided If I cant get lower on my squats, Ill just go heavier. Box squats are a great way to build strength in the legs without using the full range of movement. Loading up on these made me feel good, and the increase in strength really helped my confidence. I tell you this right now though, I was starting from the absolute arse end of fitness, and I hated it so much. Its humbling to say the least and looking back I feel immensely proud of what I achieved and how far I have come since those early days. It was in those first few weeks that decided I was going to make myself Harder To Kill....
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