#RadicalEmpathy — digging deeper
Two years ago my book Radical Empathy: A Path to Bridging Racial Divides was published. In it, I highlight the importance of vulnerability as part of the process of developing empathy for yourself and for others. I bared my soul about the impact of internalized oppression on me and my family. It has been impactful and I have traveled across North America both virtually and in person to share the power of radical empathy.
However, all of that vulnerability didn’t prepare me for the impact of Imani Perry’s audiobook, A Dangerously High Threshold for Pain. Over the last few months, I have become painfully aware of my own physical decline. It has been very difficult for me to acknowledge the cumulative impact of years of back pain, arthritis, hormonal issues, and the wear and tear of life as an athlete. I have to dig even deeper to get real with myself about my health.
I can’t run anymore. That reality only hit me a few months ago. Despite the fact that I had serious foot surgery in 2016, I still held out hope that I would be able to run again. I went through months of physical therapy, did all the exercises, wore the orthotics, got the right shoes. I would run for short periods, and then something would hurt. The latest is arthritis in my knees and this time it’s for real. Running is no longer an option. This may not seem to be a big deal, but running is an integral part of my identity. I have always been able to run — fast. I was always hoping to be the woman in her 70s running 10ks and 5ks, maybe even marathons. This has been a very difficult pill to swallow.
In my book, I talk about the fact that we are often told in the African-America community that we have to work twice as hard to get half the credit. Listening to Imani’s experience and reviewing my own struggle with health issues, I realized that we also believe that we have to work twice as hard to look past health issues. I was the supermom who not only was a professor of political science, I became a high level administrator early in my career. I was a fixture in the Austin running community. I was on a bunch of nonprofit boards. And most important to me, I was there to cook a family dinner most nights.
At the same time, I struggled with various health issues including allergies for which I had to have a sinus surgery in 2015 to put an end to regular sinus infections. Since puberty, I have had painful endometriosis, migraines, and since college, ongoing back pain for which I have been going for chiropractic treatment every two weeks since I was in my late 20s. I have gotten regular physical therapy and since I can’t take NSAIDS, due to sensitivities (including the fact that ibuprofen could kill me) my only relief is acetaminophen. I had a horrible time with peri-menopause — things have gotten much better since I’m now fully into menopause, but I still struggle to regularly get enough sleep. It’s a lot.
The year I turned 50, I decided to run a race every month. I ran several half-marathons and a bunch of 5ks and 10ks. I was proud of myself for doing it. I honestly believe that my years of running helped me keep my joints moving and forestalled the arthritis I’m dealing with now — even now, I know that I need to keep moving, it just needs to be low impact.
Spring of the year that I turned 52, I had my first MRI on my back because I thought I was developing stenosis. It was the first time I learned that I had been born with fused L5-S1 vertebrae. It explained my sway back (lordosis) and why my pelvis would get twisted and stuck — hence the regular visits to the chiropractor to get unstuck. If you see me limping, it’s because one leg will be shorter than the other until I see the chiropractor.
A couple of months before my October birthday, I went to my annual political science association meeting in Philadelphia over Labor Day weekend. I walked a lot, like I usually do, and didn’t think much about the foot pain, which I often had. I was an athlete/runner, of course I was going to have foot pain. I had never been to see a podiatrist or gotten a foot x-ray. When I returned home to Menlo Park, I went for a bike ride that Monday, Labor Day. I felt some pain in my left foot during the first few miles, but it went away as I got warmed up.
Wednesday night, I went to bed as usual, and woke up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I could barely walk on my left foot — it was incredibly painful. I made it back into bed, hoping that the pain would be gone by the morning. It still hurt when I got up, but I had to take my son to an orthodontist appointment and on to school. I told my husband I would drive myself to urgent care after I dealt with my son’s appointment. It didn’t even occur to me that my husband could have taken him.
I was barely able to hobble into urgent care after taking my son to school. They did an x-ray, put me on crutches and told me to come back the next day to see the podiatrist. I was the provost at Menlo College — again, it didn’t even occur to me that I might want to take the day off from work. So I went back to campus on my crutches, put my foot up with an ice pack, and got to work.
The next day, the podiatrist told me I had a broken accessory navicular bone. They put me in a boot, and told me that I might need to have surgery.
My biggest concern was that I didn’t want to miss my first trip to South Africa that was scheduled for November. My doctor gave me the OK after a month in a boot, I got special support shoes with orthotics, a cane and headed out on a bucket-list trip. When I returned, it was clear that my foot was not getting any better, so we agreed it was time for surgery.
I actually took time off after the surgery, but I made sure I was back in the office ASAP. It seems laughable now, given that we have all learned to work from home — I could have taken time off, but I had no thought for myself and my recovery. I still had something to prove.
Then there was the time that I had a delay in getting my migraine medication and I nearly had a stroke. After a week of migraine pain I again took myself to urgent care. My blood pressure was so high they immediately put me on stroke watch. I got a shot of a triptan and once my blood pressure dropped to a reasonable level, they let me go, but once again, I was kicking myself for waiting to get something taken care of and driving myself to urgent care when I was in serous pain.
I joke about that fact that as an athlete, particularly a runner, I’m a masochist. Pain is the norm. Lately, I have not been so sanguine about it. I just got my knees checked for arthritis in December. By January, I was experiencing pain in both elbows, my neck and the usual back pain. I honestly don’t know how much pain is reasonable to endure anymore. My doctor sent me to physical therapy and I’m dutifully trying to do my exercises, but I also need to continue working on my core for my back pain and getting regular aerobic exercise. It takes a lot of time to get through all of that on a regular basis. Meanwhile, I’m pretty much in constant pain.
My physical issues are nowhere near what Imani Perry has experienced in her life and I thank her for sharing her journey, particularly as an academic. However, she also reminds me that I have to take my health seriously, even when our healthcare system doesn’t (see my chapter on health disparities in my book). I will take to heart the lessons she shares:
a urologist named Dr. Kumar…taught me a necessary lesson: He told me that I had a “dangerously high threshold for pain,” a habit of pushing through the incessant aching and throbbing.
I am definitely going to pay more attention to what my body is telling me, take time to grieve over my loss of running as an outlet, and say no a lot more. I have been having this discussion over the last few months with many colleagues. I have pushed myself very hard throughout my career, and frankly, I have always enjoyed being busy and don’t regret any of it. However, it is time for me to slow down and find new outlets for my energies. I’m also extremely grateful that I have landed at McGill University at this stage of my career. My colleagues have been amazing, and I know that they truly care about me and my family. I know I can call on them any time — in fact, I have and they have come through. I’m also grateful for my family and friends across the US who have been there to support me throughout the years. Thank you.
Listen to Imani’s story. Take care of your friends. Take care of yourself.
