Day 31 Post-Op: One Month Out, Meeting Margo, and the Hope of Handstands
Yesterday marked exactly one month since I walked through the doors of Porter Hospital for surgery.
Looking back across these four weeks, it feels like both everything and almost nothing has happened. On paper, I haven’t traveled anywhere, finished a project, or kept up with the ordinary business of daily life. But the quiet fact that I am moving again and fully back in my own days feels like an enormous victory.
When Matt brought me home from the hospital three weeks ago, the idea of boarding an airplane to lead a retreat in Costa Rica felt impossible. I could not picture myself in those shoes. Now that flight is two weeks away, and I cannot wait.
I spent this past month sitting in the stillness of this house, doing the unglamorous work of resting while my body felt locked down. All the while, an invisible miracle was happening. Cells and tissues were repairing, and the metal in my back was anchoring ten levels of my spine. I remain in awe of modern medicine and of the sheer resilience of the human body.
I spent three grueling years exhausting every avenue to avoid the operating table, agonizing over alternatives and chasing non-surgical fixes. Yet within thirty days of surrender, I am upright, moving, and completely free of the grinding pain that used to consume me.
That momentum carried into my second physical therapy session a few days ago.
I was paired with a young physical therapist named Margo. As we sat down, I told her about the worry that has been nagging at me since surgery: whether I could ever truly get back to where I was physically.
Margo did not blink. Her face lit up, and she began sharing stories of the ultra-runners, kickboxers, and high-performance athletes she has guided back to their sports after this exact spinal reconstruction.
I looked at her and said, “I am a yogi and a yoga instructor. My goal is to return to everything I could do before, within the reality of my new backbending limits.”
She started asking specific, nuanced questions about the styles of yoga I practice and teach. Within two minutes the spark was unmistakable: I was talking to a fellow practitioner. Margo is a certified yoga instructor herself, and the combination of physical therapy and yoga is what saved her from her own spinal condition. My entire body relaxed. I knew without question that I was in the right room with the right person.
I laid out my timeline: “My goal is to be ready for our retreat in Costa Rica. I want my focus right now on building freedom of movement and real, grounded confidence before we board that flight.”
Margo understood immediately. Sensing that my foundation was solid, she pushed me further. Before I knew it she had me on the mat in bridge pose, waking up my glutes and hamstrings. Then single leg lifts. Then the careful work toward bird dog, spine straight and steady the whole time.
As we mapped out goals, curiosity got the best of me. Just for fun, I put it out there: “What about handstands? I know my deep backbends are behind me, but can I get upside down? Can I still arm balance?”
Without missing a beat, Margo smiled and said, “Yes. Here is how you will be able to do it.”
She didn’t kick up into an inversion right there in the clinic, but she broke down the exact mechanics of how strong shoulders and a steady core can get me upside down without stressing the lower back.
I walked out of that appointment floating. There are countless patient, deliberate steps between now and kicking up into a handstand, but knowing that the door is not closed changes everything. For the first time since surgery, I am thinking about what comes next instead of what I might not get back.
