My Weekend Warrior

The weekend warrior is a term given to individuals who engage in physically demanding projects strictly on weekends. During the week, they are obedient citizens who follow a daily routine, drive between the lines, and sit at their desks filing TPS reports...


...Didn't you get the memo?






But during the weekend, the brown shoes are kicked aside and the Birkenstocks come on. The ties loosen and are then worn as sweat bands. The button-down oxfords come off and the undershirts stay on.

The weekend warrior is ready for action. Hand them a shovel and they'll dig up that bush that's been dead since winter. Show them the carpet and they'll tear that sucker right off the floor with their teeth. Ask my husband to replace the outdoor lightbulb that's been out for months and he'll run straight to the fields....the football fields.

My husband is a weekend warrior of a different class. During the week, he is a dedicated full-time Northrop Grumman employee, a favorite part-time instructor at UMBC, and part-time master's student...his SECOND master's. But on weekends, he's just a kid...and rightfully so!

On Saturdays, all he wants is his fried egg sandwich and to watch tv in a horizontal position. He enjoys his cat naps with Murry and a diet orange soda seated next to him. That's pretty much it.

On Sundays, he is a LITTLE more physically active. His heart rate actually fluctuates and the couch gets a break FROM him (for just a few hours). Sundays is my warrior's holy day of football.

7:30am my weekend warrior wakes up to get ready for his day. He searches through the closet looking for his UnderArmor shirt. He gets me to dress his wounds from last week's game with an ACE bandage wrapped around his wrist. (It's actually gravel burn on the palms of his hands!) I am barely awake by the time he leaves, but I manage to constant remind him to stretch out before AND after his game...

...2 years ago I never would have thought that he could play football again. I remember that one December day when this warrior called me at work asking to bring home a crutch from work. He said he was playing basketball (by himself, I always joke).

"I heard a pop and felt my knee move like this, " he described as he moved his fists away from each other opposite directions. We didn't think it was a big deal...rest, ice, elevation...until he woke up in the middle of the night in agony. His knee had doubled in size from the swelling and he could barely walk to the bathroom without feeling nauseous or clammy.

We quickly found ourselves at Greater Baltimore Medical Center's ER with news that Has had not only completely torn his MCL, but the entire "unhappy triad", which included the MCL, meniscus, and worst of all, his ACL. We were "unhappy" because the torn ACL meant surgery and months of rehab. I knew it, but Has had no idea.


"We don't have to move the mattress to the first floor, " he reassuring told me. HA! Little did he know that after the surgery he wouldn't be able to climb stairs or see our bedroom for the next 2 weeks!
My warrior was brave...he endured the needles and prodding of the arthroscopic probes. But there he was, laying in the stretcher recovering from the anesthesia...my subdued warrior pale as a ghost. It was frightening to see him like that...dry lips, IVs in each hand, and a level of consciousness that was not Hassan. For once I did not want to be a nurse...I understood too much...

Getting my subdued husband home was challenge of its own. It was up to his father and I to bear most of his weight and act as his good knee. "I'll be alright, " Has said as he tried to bear own weight while getting out of the car. I almost trusted him and found myself almost crushed to death as he realized just how weak he was. His father, I knew was scared. I had never seen him look so helpless before.

The healing warrior slept most of the day and into the night. He awoke with bouts of nausea and dry heaving as he soon realized that the pain was ever-present. Surprisingly, the rehab started the very next day. Painful at first with tiny knee bends on a machine that did the moving for him. Eventually, his range of motion increased...he could stand with a cane, sit independently on the toilet, and even step over the ledge into the shower. (Don't ask about the sponge baths before this!)

So, I look at how far this weekend warrior has come...6 months of rehab, a 20 pound weight loss, and the simple fact that he can now get into the car and drive again. I thank God that his surgery was successful and that Dr. Bennett (orthopedic surgeon) has been pleased with every follow-up appointment. This is Dr. Bennett...

So, when I see this weekend warrior come home and walk through the door after playing football for 4 hours, I go through a series of feelings. Happy that he's home. Scared that he may be limping. Concerned that something new may be swollen. Or worried that he has reinjured something that has healed.

Scrapes and bruises don't worry me as much...

Even as he is sitting down to take off his shoes and socks, I watch closely for unusual muscle tightness. I half-anticipate that some tendon will suddenly snap and shoot up his leg if he moves a certain direction.

"Make sure you stretch, " I always remind this warrior after he comes home. I'm happy that he can continue to play football after all things said and done. What would he do if he could never play anything ever again? How unhappy and depressed he would be!

The lightbulb outside can wait............for a few more weekends.