It was February 2025—my son’s birthday and our very first day on the mountains that year. The weather was breathtaking: a deep blue sky and a shimmering sun.
The day started with a few hiccups. Was it the frustration of not skiing as well as we hoped? Was it a split second of distraction? Or was it because, between 15:30 and 16:00, the melting snow in the shadows had turned into treacherous ice? Perhaps it was a combination of all three. One moment I was skiing beautifully, and the next, I suffered a violent fall.
As I lay there, I knew immediately I couldn’t get up. I turned away those who gathered to help, telling them I just needed a moment to breathe. Once the initial shock passed, I slowly stood up, managed to get down the mountain, and applied a cold snow compress to my knee.
On the outside, nothing seemed wrong. We finished the day after handling a few things for the kids. The lady at the ski rental shop, a dear friend of many years, suggested I visit the local pharmacy—it was a brilliant idea. In a small exam room at the back, the pharmacist checked my knee. Since I could still use it despite the swelling, I thought it wasn’t serious. I left with a knee brace and a tube of Arnica cold gel (the kind made for horses!). He suggested I wrap my knee in plastic cling film before bed. Between the Arnica 1000 painkillers and the gel, I spent my first night with a pillow under my knee. Little did I know that I would be living like this for the next 7 or 8 months…
The next morning, torn between staying home or heading back to the mountain, I chose the mountain. But my knee winced with every bend. Walking was pure torture, yet we made the 10-minute trek to the lifts. I quickly realized: Skiing was actually easier than walking! I spent the next three days skiing cautiously, avoiding black slopes entirely. I couldn't ski the way I wanted, but I could still find some joy in the holiday.
When the trip ended, the long drive home was a nightmare; my knee hated being stationary. As soon as I returned, I saw a physical therapist. They concluded there was no major damage—just swelling. We started weekly sessions to rebuild strength. Meanwhile, I never stopped practicing yoga. I continued teaching my classes without a break. Sitting cross-legged was a dream, and Child’s Pose was my greatest challenge. But thanks to the creativity of yoga, I found a way through every alternative.
A month later, due to overcompensating on my healthy leg, I developed a pinched nerve in my left foot. For a month, I couldn't lift my toes toward my knee; I had a dropped foot. Between a non-functional right knee and a dragging left foot, I honestly don’t know how I managed to walk back then.
Through massage and mindful movement, my left foot eventually recovered. I saw progress in my knee every week, but after a fall from my bike in the fourth month, I decided to see a doctor again. Once more, the manual tests suggested nothing was broken. By November, although I had improved, I still couldn't fully straighten or use my knee. Yet on the yoga mat, I was almost back to my old self—except for that elusive Child's Pose.
Finally, I was referred to a surgeon—a specialist in sports injuries. After an X-ray and an MRI, we finally had the answer: an avulsion fracture that had occurred 8 months ago. My ACL hadn't torn, but when it was pulled, it had taken 1-2 mm pieces of the tibia bone with it.
Only 1-2 millimeters... but what a toll it had taken. Only I knew the struggle of those 8 months.
The recommendation was reconstructive surgery—a "magic touch" to rebuild the knee. For a couple of days, I fell into deep despair. Should I have the surgery? If so, when? Recovery would take 12 months. After a second consultation from same surgeon, we decided to give it until March to strengthen the knee without surgery. he rest of my knees are in perfect condition. I would continue with my functional yogapractice.
They say good people enter your life exactly when you need them. My dear friend Ros, with whom I did my very first yoga practice, reached out. With her wonderful energy and advice, I mapped out a new path for myself.
My knee continued to heal day by day. By early January, the idea of surgery began to fade.
I’ve been teaching every Wednesday at a local gym since August. When I shared my progress with the owner, who is a very sweet soul, to update my situation, she offered me extra help for my knee: I could use the gym to strengthen my legs. That way, I can more easily support my knee. It’s been three weeks since I started working with the equipment. It seems I will continue my life with this fracture. I still have 6 weeks until my March appointment, but did I mention that my surgeon gave me the green light to ski—as long as I don't fall?
I will update you again in March. But if there is one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: Movement is the only remedy for a human being. But it must be movement performed correctly, with balance and awareness. Being conscious of your body's movement is the greatest gift you can give yourself.
Add comment
Comments