"He reveals the deep things of darkness and brings deep shadows into the light" (Job 12:22)
I was just thinking last night about how it had been a full week since my surgery and that I needed to take all of the inspirations from the past week and begin writing. It wasn't until I began reading through my emails and noticed a quote that I felt I had enough to get going. "Life is often lived forward, but understood backward."
The above scripture and quote pretty much summarize how the first week of this journey has been for me. After the spinal tap wore off and I began weaning myself off of the 4 medications I was prescribed, life got more interesting by unveiling what had actually been done to my body on Oct 10, and more importantly, what had been done to my body over the last two years. I suspect that it was coming down off of the meds that filled me with the realization that I was now completely helpless and 100% reliant on outside things/individuals. Pain. Depression. Panic. Of course once you start to see the darkness you continue to toe in deeper and deeper until you are totally encompassed in negativity and self-doubt. My thoughts were consumed by the prospects of never walking, let alone, running again. Is this pain was always going to be here? Was that a pop I just heard? Is this pain normal? Should I call the doctor? I hate laying in this bed hooked up to this machine . I hate having to call Emily to come lift me up so that I can go pee. I hate being stuck indoors. I hate my email notification noise. I hate everything....
I actually cried for the first time in many years. Then some very powerful words that I have used over and over again hit me. "Dig deep. Keep moving forward. Surprise Yourself. Be the Best." The personal mantras that I wrote about several months ago were still there. What was most surprising is that they were as effective, if not more, in this life scenario vs. their normal triathlon scenario.
The day before my surgery I had dinner with some very dear friends who live in our neighborhood. Not sure if it was the fear in my eyes or them sensing the stress and worry that I was harboring at the time, but they said something to me that was punctual for the moment, but did not truly resonate until I went through the dark place mentioned above. 'You are going through this and when you get out, you are going to appreciate your body and what you have been able to do with it even more. The universe has its own way of giving back.'
God has a way of communicating to us and I truly believe that most of the time we miss it. In this moment, the succession of events had to be perfect for me to understand the message. I had gotten to a place in triathlon where it was becoming easy and I was unappreciative of the fact that I could not only finish the race but that I could finish in the top 10 of my age group. I was unappreciative of the fact that training was no longer grueling and laborious. I was unappreciative of my body. Further, if I didn't finish well, I was angry with myself, training had become a process and I never sat back and evaluated how my body was reacting to the stress.
Please see the metaphor in all of this. All of these actions were transpiring in my life outside of this sport as well. You are not a different person in each facet of your life, it is impossible. You are who you are, and you will be who you will be no matter what you are doing. That's why it is so important to live a healthy life in everything you do. I had taken this too far, too fast, and no longer appreciated the hard work or the machine used to do it. God was reeling me back in.
As for the less important message, my body is still healing. I was able to get into the Ironman Sports Institute for physical therapy and could not be more pleased with the facility and my trainers. I am hurting and I can tell that things are not right in my hip and adductor, but I have faith and I put my full trust in Dr. Adickes' ability to heal. I have trouble getting out of bed, bending my torso anywhere near 90 degrees (putting on shoes, putting on pants, petting the dogs, etc. etc.), and need help carrying anything that will not effectively travel in my backpack. I do hear popping and snapping noises. As a result of the adductor reposition, I have no muscle memory of lifting my leg, or holding it elevated with my quad. My abdomen hurts. My butt hurts. My hip still hurts. And more worrisome, my other leg is aching in all of its joints from taking on the burden of my dead leg. Oh, and I still cannot feel certain very crucial areas of my body after the spinal tap (use your imagination). No red flags or alarms need to go off just yet for any of the above as they are all part of the process.
I am optimistic.
Take away the tangibles from the surgery but also understand the most important lesson in all of this: be very cautious as to who and what you serve. We go through the dark places because we lack focus and judgment. God wants us to be successful, but our success must positively impact others. Not just ourselves.
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