From Diagnosis to the Operating Room: My Story of Preparing for ACL Surgery
Returning Home to a New Reality
Returning home after receiving the official diagnosis felt like stepping into a season of stillness. The reality settled slowly, and I could feel my body trying to understand what my mind already knew. This was not an injury that would resolve with a few months of physical therapy.
This was my first major surgery, and the most significant injury of my dance career.
My year would now orbit around reconstruction, recovery, and rehabilitation.
I spent long afternoons outside, notebook in hand, journaling my way through the truth of it. Writing helped me release the shock that lingered in my nervous system. Naming the fear brought enough steadiness to breathe again, yet it did not take away the weight of what was coming. Sharing the news with former students and parents brought warmth, but fear stayed close.
The Weight of Fear and the Challenge of Surrender
My only prior experience with anesthesia had ended in a severe reaction. That memory, paired with the scale of this operation, made everything feel fragile. I wondered if I would ever dance the same way again. I wondered if something might go wrong. These thoughts moved through my mind like unwelcome choreography, repeating themselves in sharp, unpredictable rhythms.
As dancers, we live with a deep intimacy of our bodies. We know how movement feels from the inside out. Losing control, even temporarily, can feel terrifying. Trusting someone else with the future of that body created a fear unlike anything I had experienced.
There was also the fear of pain. I knew my sensitivity and awareness would help me in recovery, yet that same sensitivity made the idea of surgical pain difficult to process.
Avoidance, Overwhelm, and the Gradual Turning Toward Acceptance
The surgical team gave me a detailed preoperative booklet. I could barely read two pages without feeling physically sick. Avoidance became my instinctive response, so I asked my mom to read it for me, trusting her steadiness to keep me on track with everything required before surgery.
Through September and October, I immersed myself in my choreographic residency with New Trier Dance Company, Kinesis. Creativity became a refuge. Even though my body could not move fully, I could still create, teach, and collaborate. The dancers brought generosity and joy into a time that felt shadowed by uncertainty. The residency helped me stay connected to my artistry while avoiding the fear I was not yet ready to face.
Stepping Into the Hard Conversations
As October moved forward, everything became real. Preoperative physical therapy. Crutch training. Conversations about the reconstruction. My counseling sessions shifted toward fear, anxiety, and the discomfort of hospital environments.
Through those conversations, something softened. I began to remember that my body has navigated pain before. I have trained, adapted, and rebuilt. This injury was more severe, but I was not a stranger to resilience.
Therapy helped me reach a point where I could read the booklet without feeling nauseous. I began scheduling the necessary appointments. I was still scared, but I was no longer frozen.
The Value of Support for Dancers Facing Injury
Every dancer deserves to know how helpful mental health support can be during injury and surgical preparation. Our work is not only physical. It is woven into identity, routine, and creative expression. When that world shifts, the emotional impact can be profound. Therapy offers space for honesty and grounding, especially when facing something as serious as surgery.
A Race Against the Calendar
One week before surgery, I had my preoperative history and physical at a local urgent care center. They completed the bloodwork but were unable to clear me for surgery. Panic surged through my body. My surgery was in seven days. I needed that clearance.
Thankfully, my primary physician’s office fit me in three days before the operation. With constant communication to my surgeon’s team, everything aligned just in time.
The Final Week: Distraction and the Return of Fear
I had two final rehearsals for my choreographic residency. They offered enough distraction to keep fear at a distance. But by Wednesday, the anxiety broke through the structure I had created. My body began shaking. The nerves took over.
Photos from my Fall 2025 Choreographic Residency at New Trier High School.
I needed something bright, something that would bring warmth and humor into a process that felt so serious and heavy. Surgery was scheduled for Halloween, and I decided early on that I would step into that day with creativity and joy.
Becoming the Queen of ACL Rehabilitation
I crowned myself the Queen of ACL Rehabilitation. I bought a crown that made me feel powerful and a bit whimsical. Then I gathered images of public figures who had undergone ACL reconstruction, people whose careers demanded strength and resilience. I crowned them too, creating my own court of ACL royalty.
Here are some of the many performers and athletes who returned from ACL surgery:
Serena Williams, Tom Brady, Kerri Strug, Saquon Barkley, Megan Rapinoe, Derrick Rose, Lindsey Vonn, Chloé Dygert, Adrian Peterson, Michelle Kwan, Adam Rippon, Zendaya, Natalie Portman, and Shakira.
Past athletes that have gone through ACL surgery.
Knowing that artists and athletes of this caliber rebuilt their bodies gave me a profound sense of hope.
The Night Before and the Morning Of
The night before surgery brought tears. Fear and anticipation wove together, leaving me restless. But the morning arrived, and with it came a quiet readiness.
My husband drove as my favorite music played. Lady Gaga’s “Abracadabra.” Britney Spears’s “Work B*tch,” and Chappel Roan's "Hot To Go." Songs filled with energy and strength. The kind of music that reminds you of who you are when you start to forget.
At the surgery center, my parents were waiting. Their presence grounded me. The check-in process moved quickly, and soon I was changing into the gown. Only two people could join me at a time, so my loved ones switched in and out, offering comfort, distraction, and positivity.
We took photos of the Queen of ACL costume. The staff loved it. It brought levity into a morning that carried so much weight.
Crossing the Threshold
The IV went in. The nerve block was administered. The room moved quickly around me as preparations continued. Two hours passed like twenty minutes.
Then it was time.
They wheeled me into the operating room. The lights were bright. The air was cool. A mask lowered toward my face as the nurse asked me to tell them about the people in my ACL court.
I began to speak, but before I could finish naming them, the world dissolved into quiet.
And that is where this chapter ends.The next begins in recovery.
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