This is officially the longest title in the almost 12 year history of the blog. Now that that is out of the way, here’s the story. Some of you have heard me complain about this for weeks, and for that I am sorry. I would hate to have to listen to myself like that. So without further to do…
It was a Saturday afternoon. I thought I would so something productive. Seeing a small bag of garbage by the front door, I decided to take it to the large dumpster in the parking lot. When I get to the dumpster, I realize that there is some snow on it, and the space between the plastic lid and the metal container has ice making it difficult to open. I thought if I just pushed a little harder than my usual effort, I would be able to free the ice and open the bin. I ended up pushing a lot harder. I got it open and threw out the garbage. It totally wasn’t worth it. That was when I pulled almost every muscle I had. Although I didn’t feel anyting til later. I could still do everything, and still can. For the first week it was just this nagging annoyance. I thought it would go away. After all I have had worse things happen to me, and have gotten over them in a few days. So, for the first week, I rode it out. Then I realized this was one of those things that was going to stick around. How long? I have no idea.
In the beginning Hot showers were my best friend. They still are, but now Ibuprofen and Robax are my other best friends. Not to mention the heating pad that my mom and dad let me borrow as they listened to me whine about my self inflicted, avoidable circumstances. How difficult would it have been to just not take the garbage out that day? Why did I have to be the hero? Why did I have to be responsible?
As an aside, “No Time To Die” was a great movie, but all the fight scenes made me sore.
Now, we’re back.
Before I was able to visit my family, Gene was kind enough to let me borrow his heating bag. Although, as much as he didn’t like seeing me in pain, his repeated well meaning comments to me would go along as follows. “Now you know a little bit of what I go through every day.” “You don’t know anything about pain! Wait til you’re my age!” The “best” one occurred ater a long discussion about a passage in the Bible, James 1:2-4.
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters,[a] whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. 4 Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.
“You should be smiling just as much when you’re going through a trial as you do on a normal day.”
There it was. That was the line. I see where he was coming from, but I don’t think I’ll ever be a “good enough” Christian to do that. I’m not a “good enough” Christian to do anything. Gene is a man of constant sorrows and familiar with suffering on almost every level of the human experience. He has figured out how to do that in his long life. I have not. That and happiness and joy are two completely different things.
And then this classic line “Don’t take pills, pray about it!” Can’t I do both? For the record I did both.
Moving around has also helped. I’ve been going on as many walks as I can. You’d think I’d be laid up in bed, but those times just make everything stiff. It seems like the opposite of “conventional wisdom” seems to be working better. Until I trip over a crack in the street and lose all my momentum and good efforts, setting everything off once again. That’s happened twice and they were both very frustrating. Why did I have to trip in the street and ruin everything again? These are frustrating times, but nothing compared to what Gene goes through every day, or what Jesus went through on the Cross. I have no right to complain about anything.
I have finally begun to notice some improvement, but there is a way to go. Hopefully not too much longer. My lower back seems to have resolved itself. I could be wrong. I’ll have to wait and see. As I sit hunched over my computer writing this, it could come back. My neck stiffness is definitely still around. It cna’t last forever. Right?
Waiting, while doing everything I can in the meantime, is the hard part. The psychological aspect. What If I never get past this? I’m not old, but I’m not young.
I want to be better now.
I don’t want to spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been over something that was so stupid and avoidable.
I think that’s where I will leave things. You’ve listened to me whine long enough.