Somewhere Between: Twenty-seven and Sixty-seven

Author’s note:  I’m doing so much better now. :)

My internal monologue late in 2011:La, la, la, la, la…I feel so good.I love being in my forties.I can run over five miles, and I barely weigh more than in high school.Look at me! I feel twenty-seven…actually better!I should give myself lots of pats on the back…I’m not sure why, but still…

My internal monologue early in 2012:Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain. Pain.If only I could lie on my back and read…or watch TV…or anything.If only I wasn’t limping, if only I could feel my toes, if only I didn’t have a million and one doctor appointments, if only I could sleep through the night, if only I would stop crying in front of my children; then I wouldn’t feel as if I was sixty-seven…or even one hundred and seven.I think I’m gaining weight (to top it all off)…yoga pants are now a staple of my wardrobe.

Okay, yes, I’ll admit I’m exaggerating how good I felt in late 2011 although my statement isn’t far off the mark.

However, on January 1^st, 2012, my story changed drastically.I woke up that morning feeling pretty good.You see, I had been having some back pain…not an unusual occurrence for me, especially since we’d been up in Dallas visiting with family for the holidays and not sleeping in our cloudy-soft bed.

But that morning…this particular morning, I got out of bed and noted my back was pretty much pain-free. Whew!I was thinking it was because we were back in our own bed the night before.So I sauntered on into the bathroom, blew my nose on a tissue (Doesn’t everyone?), and leaned over to throw it into the garbage can located under a countertop.

I’m not sure what, or maybe I should say 'how it' happened, but I felt a snapping or popping sensation in my back, and, even though it wasn’t terribly painful at this point, it did hurt.

And I wasn’t able to stand up straight.

This scared me.

“Craig!Craig, I think I hurt myself!Craig!Where are you?!Craaaaaaaig!” I wailed.

Isn’t it ironic?It always seems they’ve gone to walk the dog or something just when you need them.I’m telling you…I have the best husband ever, but he’s not developed any special, prophetic, my-spouse-is-about-to-hurt-her-back skills.Whassup with tha’ (I’m trying to sound tough like my friend, Lori.She’s from Long Island.)?

And, to be honest, when he did return, he wasn’t able to help me…because he didn’t have any orthopedic surgeon skills either.I mean, M.D.s don’t grow on trees.

Later that morning, I decided to get myself dressed and go to the grocery store.We desperately needed food.I thought maybe I would feel better if I just moved around…maybe the pain would go away…it’s sometimes worked for me in the past, so…

Picture this:I’m limping through the grocery store, throwing who-knows-what into my wonky cart and trying to hold back the tears.I finally make it to the check-out counter, and I’m unlucky enough to have one of those people sack my groceries.

Who are those people?Well, they’re usually male, under twenty-five and have brain damage from imprudent living.Somehow, the switch between their brain and their mouth is stuck in the on position.Heck!I know he probably saw me limp up to the cash register.I’m sure he noticed the grimace on my face, the downturned mouth and the slightly leaky eyes. But he must’ve been sporting some kind of serious hangover to think any remark would be welcome.

Or he knew nothing about women…or he is normally able to communicate telepathically with the checker, but the ability went on the fritz just at that moment…or all of the above.

Hold your breath.

He said, “You look………..”

“I look what?” I nastily replied as if I had a chip on my shoulder the size of Texas; then I did start crying.

But I didn’t ask for any help as I pushed my wobbly cartload out the door, tears streaming down my face and my limp more exaggerated than ever.However, I was in full-blown sob mode by the time I got home.I felt stupid, scared and guilty.

You see…nice, Christian ladies have more patience with their fellowman hence the guilt.Socially adept people ignore silly, incomplete sentences with a smile hence the stupid…and my back was hurting worse than ever hence the scared.

Two days later, after getting no help from a stand-alone emergency clinic and the nurse practitioner at my doctor’s office…I asked Craig to drive me into the emergency room in the middle of the night.I was pretty embarrassed to ask him this at 3:00 am, but I just couldn’t take it anymore.

The emergency room doctors finally gave me some real pain medicine (which I happily accepted), took x-rays and referred me to an orthopedic surgeon.By then, I could find no comfortable position with which to exist, and I’d barely slept a wink.

Sure the pain medicine made me vomit…but I was finally able to get some sleep.

However, I wasout of commission.I couldn’t take care of my children or the dog, I couldn’t take care of the house and I could barely take care of myself. The pain medicine, in addition to making me sick to my stomach, was causing me to be groggy.I would try to remember to write down when I took which pill when, so I wouldn’t be taking too many at once.That’s how bad it was.

Craig had to take extra time off work to help me cope.When he couldn’t be home, his parents filled in the gap.The next week, my mom drove down from Dallas to help me with the kids and dog (Thanks, Mom!I know I was a bit of a pill that week; I’m so sorry.).

Anyway, this is the state in which I celebrated my forty-seventh birthday.

Once I was finally able to see the surgeon, they ordered an MRI…and sent me off to start six weeks of physical therapy.

We soon found out I had a herniated disc.

And they think the running contributed to it and maybe genetics as well, but they don’t really know.

Then I was told I shouldn’t be running for awhile.Then I was told I probably should never run again.

I was at one of my lowest points ever.I was humbled and felt vulnerable.In fact, I could tell myself all day some people had it worse, but it didn’t matter or console me…because I never realized that I’d been running for so long, it had become part of my identity.And I could tell myself I would eventually get better, but I felt no relief…because even though a few days earlier I was vainly, secretly, almost subconsciously congratulating myself for being young for my age…I was quickly informed by my physical therapist eighty percent or so of these injuries reoccur.

Well…it’s been tough.

It’s rearranged the way I see myself.

And it’s rearranged the way I see God.

Okay, I need to go back a few months in time…and remind you I’ve been working on a book.I had a goal to start submitting it for publication this past January or February.I was also planning on looking for a part-time job.Therefore, I’d let go of a few of my activities –volunteer and otherwise- at the beginning of 2012 to clear up my schedule.

Did I know I was going to hurt myself?Of course not, but, at the end of 2011, it seemed the right thing to do.I was extremely sad about losing contact with some of the people I saw on a weekly basis, but my resolve held.

I strongly believed I needed to free up time.

Looking back on it after my injury, I felt much peace knowing God had very possibly led me to these decisions…because otherwise I would be letting more people down than I would’ve without the obligations.In other cases, people were able to easily step in for me during the three or four weeks I was not able to volunteer.

In fact, during some of my hardest times…by the grace and impression of the Holy Spirit…I was able to thank God for my circumstance…feeling the miraculous rightness of a thankful attitude as I cried and without understanding why, but knowing it was Biblical.

And I was able to rejoice in relief and thanks because even though I felt we needed the money from a part-time job, God provided the means for C.G. to start at his new private school in the fall.

Through it all, God has reminded me how good He is.

His love's felt more intense, and I’ve realized he was preparing us all for this hard thing…whatever it was…because we could’ve never dreamed it was around the bend.

Maybe these don't sound like huge spiritual epiphanies, and they're not...except in the moment...your moment.

For those of you who aren’t Christ-followers or spiritually-minded, my musings may not make much sense.You’ll chalk it all up to coincidence…and I think how flat such chalking up really is.How one-dimensional…to dismiss a God, a loving, intervening God.One who so many wise, intelligent, sincere, character-filled, but imperfect people have cried out to in their need over the millennia…and found Him far from wanting…who found He wanted to be their friend.

Do you really think you're 'twenty-seven'? For me, it's sometimes yes/sometimes no. Emotions are inconsistent after all. But, no matter my feelings, I know God loves me (and you, too).

Comments

[Laura A.]

Thank you, Melissa! I'm trying to take care of myself, and I'm much, much better. In fact, there ARE moments where I forget it ever happened...and those are good moments. :)

[Melissa Studdard]

Laura, you LOOK like you're twenty-seven, and I am so glad you're taking care of yourself!