Emma Bilton

My name is Emma Bilton and I am a rower at Hobart and William Smith Colleges. I joined the team as a walk on my freshman year, and quickly fell in love with the sport. I love the feeling of going fast, the way the boat glides on the water, and the electric energy in the boat. I was so excited to have found a family on campus. In September and October, I started to get pain in my legs and knees. At first, I thought it was just from using muscles I didn’t use when playing other sports, but it never went away. The pain would come in my knees and legs while I was exercising and go away a little bit after. My legs burned, cramped, tingled, and my feet went numb. I began to walk funny, which my teammates named my “waddle.” We all joked about my waddle, but underneath the laughs I knew something was wrong. In November of my freshman year I was diagnosed with Patella-Femoral Pain Syndrome. I was pulled from workouts, modified my training, and went to the trainers three days a week for the rest of my freshman year and my sophomore year. While this helped my knees, the burning, tingling, and pain in my legs got worse and worse. Even though I was in excruciating pain I continued to get stronger and faster in my sport. I was faster and faster on each test, which negated my statements that I was in pain. My pain was accredited by others as “pain associated with speed” or “the good pain.” I was excelling at my sport, yet I couldn’t walk up the stairs to my dorm. I wouldn’t have been able to get through my day without the help and support of my sisters and a handful of my friends and teammates. I was simultaneously on top of the world and on rock bottom. I knew something was wrong, even as I was told that everything was fine and that I was being dramatic. How could feeling this way be normal?

I decided to take matters into my own hands during fall of my Sophomore year. From October to December of 2019 I went to four different doctors, had three x-rays, four MRIs, blood tests, countless appointments, went through five rolls of KT tape, and had a pressure test. In December of 2019, I was diagnosed with Chronic Exertional Compartment Syndrome in both legs. When I got my diagnosis, I felt a sense of relief. I finally had answers to all my questions and validation that the pain I was feeling every day was real. My goal was to do my best to make it through the rest of the spring season and then have surgery over the summer. With COVID sending me home from school and canceling sports, my plan changed for the better. On May 18, 2020 I walked myself into the operating room smiling under my mask. I had bilateral fasciotomies on both legs and was left with a three-inch scar on each leg.

I wasn’t prepared for recovery. I was told that recovery was simple, easy and fast. That was the picture I had in my mind. Let me tell you, that picture was off. It wasn’t the physical pain that challenged me the most, the pain I felt after surgery was not as bad as the pain I had been experiencing for almost two years, it was the emotional scars left by my injury. For the first two weeks after my surgery I was unable to walk. I used a wheelchair, or I used crutches with a family member holding onto me. I was unable to do anything for myself. I couldn’t even go to the bathroom on my own. I am very independent and am a perfectionist. It was so frustrated that I had to rely on my family to do everything for me. I felt bad that my family had to help me all day and that I interrupted their work. The most frustrating part was that when I first started PT and learning how to walk again, I couldn’t flex my ankle. No matter how hard I tried, the tendons and my ankle wouldn’t move. My body wouldn’t do what I desperately wanted it to do. I had to be patient. I am so thankful for my parents who would sit with me while I did my exercises, cheering me on, helping me continue to work through my tears and frustrations, and telling me it would all be okay. They helped me put where I was at and where I wanted to be into perspective, something I am not good at doing on my own.

I am now ten weeks into recovery and am beginning to run, bike, and row again. I now walk normally and no longer have my signature waddle. It is crazy to think that ten weeks ago I couldn’t walk or even move my ankles. I haven’t felt any pain, burning, numbness, or tingling in my legs since my surgery. I am leaps and bounds from where I started out. None of this would have been possible without my amazing surgeon and physical therapists. I’m still a bit impatient, but I know that healing and getting to where I want to be takes time. When I get frustrated about my recovery, I think back to the first time I walked on my “new legs” without my crutches. I had the biggest smile on my face as I showed my family. I was so happy, and I was shocked. My confidence went through the roof, and for the first time on my CECS journey I cried tears of joy.

CECS has been one of the toughest challenges I have faced in my life. Before CECS I wasn’t a crier, I would usually hold everything in. CECS changed my whole world. There would be days when I would be sobbing while on the rowing machine during practice or where I have had tears running down my face as I took a walk through the gym to get some feeling back in my legs. I would cry myself to sleep some nights after a rough practice. The pain, frustration, anger, and fear I felt was too much to hold in. Honestly, I’m glad I didn’t hold it in. My tears reaffirmed that while I was told I was fine, clearly, I wasn’t.
I look at my legs and the first thing I see are those two pink lines opposite of each other. Every time I look at them, I am reminded of the pain, the frustration, the helplessness, and the fear I felt. I see the many times I cried for help and no one wanted to listen. But that isn’t all I see. When I look at my scars, I see strength. I see the fight and bravery with in me. I see a girl who didn’t give up and who advocated for herself. Most importantly, I see hope. Hope that I will be able to be the athlete I want to be and the person I want to be. Hope that I will finally be pain free, and hope that no one else on my team will have to go through what I went through alone.