About 3/4
th of the way through the 1995-6 competitive season, I found
myself in second place in the overall standings. And of course, I wanted to work
my way back to the top spot on the podium. But 3/4
th of the way through
the season, that spot was owned by Canadian aerialist, Veronika Brenner.
In February of 1996, I had my chance to reclaim top-spot ownership. We were at a
contest in Oberjoch, Germany and Veronika did not qualify for finals. I just needed
2 decent jumps to be back in first place in the world. The only problem was that,
as the year was progressing, I was experiencing a great deal of lumbar pain from
a persistent muscle spasm that just refused to go away.
I arrived at the aerial site for the contest and told my coach I wouldn't be able
to do too many jumps in training because my muscle spasm was back. I tried an easy
"Lay-Full" in practice, and collapsed on the landing. For fifteen minutes, I tried
to get up again, but couldn't. Eventually, my physical therapist lifted me off the
snow and slid me towards the ski lift for my next jump. I thought I'd "power my
way" through the contest, so I ignored that first red light.
The next time down the ramp, the pain was so intense that my eyes were watering.
I don't know how I completed the first somersault, but by then I was in such pain
that I couldn't even
attempt a smooth landing. I just crashed to the ground
and slid down the hill to a stop.
After an MRI and a bone scan, the diagnosis came back, and my personal diagnosis
was way off. The doctors told me that it wasn't a muscle spasm, but something called,
"Internal Disc Disruption." I had put such stress on the discs, that they were badly
misshapen and in serious risk of bursting – not to mention, they were also
leaking spinal fluid.
I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live very much, either
The recommended treatment would require surgery to fuse my lower spine together.
That would relieve the pain, but would prevent my ever doing somersaults again.
The lesser option was cortisone shots and bed rest while I waited for my back to
heal itself. All the doctors agreed that it would be at least two years before I'd
jump again. Frankly, with the Olympics just 18 months away, neither option was acceptable.
I didn't want to quit the sport, but didn't have time to recover naturally, either.
I saw no way out. I felt defeated, and it seemed like
I was going to feel this way
for the rest of my life. At home, I sat around the house, doing nothing,
feeling sorry for myself. I was losing weight, muscle tone and flexibility. I slipped
into a deep depression. I didn't want to die, but I didn't want to live very much,
either. I cried every day, for months.
In June 1996, a sports psychologist for the ski team, Dr. Keith Henschen, pointed
out that it's hard to be optimistic when you're depressed. I had to get back on
track, so he prescribed some anti-depressants, and I renewed my search for a way
out of my predicament.
If we spend our time looking at the red lights farther down the track, or if we
forget to switch the first (or next) light to green, it's easy to get discouraged.
Sometimes a short journey in reverse is necessary.
Luckily, I discovered Dr. J. Rainville, a specialist out of Boston, who treated
a man with whom I could really relate. This patient was a sky-diver, who tried to
see how close to the ground he could open his chute. (I'm not kidding!) I smiled
when I discovered a sport that was crazier than aerials! Naturally, his back was
worse than mine. If that jumper could recover, so could I!
Doctor Rainville convinced me that I would have to develop the muscles that supported
my back in order to compensate for the degenerated condition of my lower spine.
It would require some serious weight training, and in my current condition it would
be extremely painful. I knew it was going to hurt, but if I didn't try, I'd miss
the Olympic Team, and I'd regret it for the rest of my days. My life-long dream
was at stake.
Under strict supervision, I began lifting weights twice every day. Yes it hurt,
but I was cautious at first and then slowly added more weight. While I'll never
be the same as I was, gradually, I returned to the point where I was able to jump
again. I was no longer a victim waiting for a rescue, now I had awakened the Olympian
within and was once again making progress towards my goal. Within a month I was
back on the ramp landing single somersaults. The smile had found its way back to
my face.