I worked in my yard yesterday...
Now for those of you who have followed me for a while, you may be thinking, 'So what? You talk about gardening all the time.' You'd be right. I love working in the dirt and watching things grow. This Farmer's Daughter has earned many lessons from growing things, and many have been shared here. So what was the big deal about being in the dirt yesterday and asking my husband to take a picture?
I've been keeping a secret about my health, known to only a few close friends.
There were times during the past year when I wondered if I could never keep a garden without significant help again. Last January, my left hip began to bother me so much that I required a wheelchair during a visit to see my brother. I was miserable the entire trip, made worse by how much I had been looking forward to finally seeing him in his success. I struggled to manage my pain, and my mental health was fragile. And yet, I had a full caseload of clients looking to me to help with their own issues, and this did prevent me from giving in to the helpless feelings I woke up to each day. I couldn't walk Eddy, I could barely manage Yoga, and sitting for more than a few minutes could be excruciating. I somehow got through February, setting a hip replacement date for December 10th. I then insisted that my Medical provider get me in for a Steroid injection to help ease the pain. I was so excited to get it done, confident that it would get me through to the surgery. But wow, was I wrong...
In my rush to be treated, I then got worse.
Unbeknownst to my provider, my condition had degraded. There was no space between my pelvic bone and the top of my hip bone. I'd had at least three injections, so I felt pretty aware of how it feels to receive one. Unfortunately, this experience was nothing like the others. My cocky high tolerance for pain was quickly challenged as I let out a wail and grasped for the X-Ray unit above me. When I asked what was wrong, I was dismissed by being told that sometimes they get more painful over time. I left feeling no better; in fact, I felt worse. I cried all the way to my car and told my husband that something wasn't right. I developed a lump on the top of my left thigh which turned into a Hemangioma. After several emails and phone calls, it was confirmed that an X-ray should have been done before the treatment. It seems they would never have attempted to do the injection had they known the condition of my hip.
My search for relief appeared to be pointless.
My saving grace was my work. Having people come in and share their burdens made mine seem far lighter. Of course, I still struggled with distraction at times, but this is where my faith came in.
The most frustrating and complicated thing about joint issues is how incapacitated it makes you. In my 60s, my metabolic rate is slowed, which doesn't bode well for maintaining your weight when sitting most of the time and moving slowly when you can. To make matters worse, my medical provider was very strict about any medication for pain relief, so only Tylenol was available. So I got through my day with Extra Strength Tylenol laced with larger-than-needed amounts of wine at night. It didn't take away the pain but helped me to somehow tolerate it.
My word for 2022 was "Surrender."
Yes, how ironic. I chose it in December 2021, before my hip pain decided to show itself. I did not know what God wanted me to learn in 2022 about this word. He didn't waste any time, starting me with a challenge and allowing it to get tougher. And I learned quickly to surrender and lived the rest of the year happily...
No, I did not...
In fact, while I searched the Bible for the meaning of spiritual Surrender, I neglected to consider the mental and physical aspects of the word for me. Isn't that the truth about how we learn from things in our lives? We attempt to manage the impact to avoid the potential for overwhelming pain or, worse, failure. I could open my spirit to surrender, but I feared what surrendering to the mental stress or physical pain might look like. Too many people would be able to see my weakness then, and I had an obligation to remain appearing to be stalwart and resilient.
Then one day, I snapped at a Store Clerk.
It was June, and I was preparing to go on a vacation with my grandchildren that we had planned for months. Unfortunately, I was in severe pain, but there was no way I would back out on this trip. I thought the interactions with my kiddos and the time off would be just what I needed. But unfortunately, I was still scheduled for surgery in December, counting the days.
I was in the store buying supplies after work, meaning I had gone fighting pain all day. I went to the line for the register, and a young male worker was sitting at his checkout station, talking with a person I assumed was a manager. Neither of them acknowledged me, so I finally just pulled up my cart and started unloading (his light was on). He then looked at me and said, "Oh, my bad. I'm going on break," turning off his light even with 1/2 my groceries on his belt. I felt the anger surge in me and the tears welling up. I didn't yell, but my voice was certainly loud. "Yes, your bad, is right. You'll get your ass busy checking me out, or I'll see to it that you remain on break for a very long time... Do you get me, bro?" He chuckled, looked at me, and saw my seriousness. We didn't say a word to each other as he checked me out. I bagged my own groceries, paid my bill, and left. I thought about my lousy example the whole time and hoped no one I knew was in the store. Surrender? Hardly. I was in the full offensive.
Reading my journal, I see a turning point here.
I left the store and felt isolated, not vindicated. I told my husband the story, and he looked at me with concern. "So what do you think you really accomplished? Did you get the guy fired?" In typical fashion, he pulled me out of my fog. The following day, I spilled my feelings for the first time in a long time. I had been disconnected and discounting my pain and the emotion it brought me. I had stopped trusting my inner guidance and pushing through when I needed a break.
I told people in my office daily to listen to their inner voice, denying mine. It was my job to notice and understand what was happening inside me, but I wasn't listening. I then saw that to be emotionally healthy, I needed to be as available to myself as I would be to someone I loved.
When you disregard your feelings and thoughts, your inner world feels empty.
You start to obsess over other people and external circumstances. This further disconnects you from your inner world, reinforcing the false belief that security and stimulation can only come from outside yourself. But no amount of external activity will fill the emptiness where there should be a full awareness and relationship with yourself. During these long and painful months, I learned that chronic pain can keep you a prisoner to being only an image of yourself. When you are in it, there appear to be only two choices, submit to it and become victimized or ignore it and become an imposter. But my experience taught me there is a third choice.
Take your inner and outer experiences seriously.
Process, be present, be contemplative. Persist in addressing the pain and getting relief. Be dedicated to knocking down whatever barriers stand between you and healing. Doing this shows dedication to yourself as worthy of being listened to and honored. For me, this meant seeking a provider who could get me into surgery faster. It meant being more intentional about my diet and health and realistic about how much improvement I could make. I surrendered, but I didn't give my true self up. I saw every good day as an achievement and the struggle days as a victory. I prayed. A lot. I vowed to not take this time for granted and all the lessons I was learning about chronic pain.
And I didn't give in to the pernicious idea that others should be more attentive to my needs than I was.
In my journal on July 7th, I wrote, "You can flourish and nurture yourself as a human being. But you can't be good to others if you don't value yourself first. I say this to people in my office daily, and it's time to practice what I preach." Did I somehow hope others would take care of me if I didn't take care of myself? Enough of that bullshit. I stayed on top of messaging the staff at my provider's office, not expecting them to remember me. Then one day, the Surgeon, who told me there was no way he could get me in until October, found a way to move me up to September. And just like that, I had a new hip, and my pain was gone. Simply vanished.
My Surrender did not mean giving myself away...
On the contrary, it meant owning myself and my purpose more courageously. To grow in a deeper and more compassionate understanding of chronic pain and how it impacts the whole person and their whole life. Many people don't have the good fortune to find a solution to their pain that will alleviate it substantially. They can only find temporary solutions while they hope for a cure. My experience of 2022 will remain with me forever as I encounter clients struggling with this issue. Perhaps somehow, I can give them a small piece of wisdom and comfort that will encourage them not to give up but to be open to allowing Surrender to provide them with a new sense of assurance that this is only a chapter in their lives, not the whole novel.
For me, this new year has meant more walking, swimming, gardening, and joy.
More availability to myself, just as I am with someone I dearly love.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thank you for your comment!