I woke early so I could drink my coffee and take morning medicines before 8 am. Six hours later a doctor stuck six steroid shots along each side of my lower spine. With that, a very long week came to an end.
As I mentioned in my last post, I went to a writer’s conference in North Carolina last weekend. While I’m glad I went, I’ve never been so happy to sleep in my own bed. It had taken exhaustive effort to move my legs in stiff, awkward strides.
Once home, I rested for a day before heading to a pain clinic appointment. The doctor recommended the shots and got me on the schedule. But the following day I laid flat for three MRI’s that exacerbated my pain to the point of weeping. And honestly, I have yet to recover. Shots and all.
But there’s hope.
If this set of shots shows promise, I’ll have another in four to six weeks. If they continue to work, I’ll try an ablation where the doctor burns the nerves. Fortunately, if it comes to that, I get to sleep during the procedure.
The doctor read the MRI reports today and shared that there's a bone spur on a lower disc in my neck but the thoracic spine looks okay. The hip MRI has yet to be read because by the time they did that one, I was in so much pain, I couldn’t hold my lower body still. The technician mentioned they might have to do it again.
So, when I catch up on a few things and resurface from the underworld, I'll be able to press ahead.
But it’s been harder than normal.
Pain flat took the wind out of my sails.
I sat in a pew early on Sunday morning, turned to Don, and said, “I want to go home. I don’t feel like I belong here.”
It sounds ridiculous as I type. But pain and slow legs can leave me feeling like the world is spinning round about me and I should just get off—or hide away.
Don encouraged me, so I stayed. Even sang part of a worship song. But the pain intensified and I left during the sermon.
Alone in the coffee room, I sat on a hard, wooden chair with my head in my hands. So, I didn't see Desiree walk in, “Are you okay?”
“Oh, I’m just in pain,” I started. “I have a neuro-muscular thing and three MRI’s made it worse on Friday.”
From there, Desiree and I kept talking. Turns out the young woman has lived a story much longer than mine. A year in prison counts for a lot. We didn’t solve each other’s problems, but she left and got the mom figure who’s taken her in and we all held hands and prayed.
I missed the sermon but had church in the coffee room.
It felt good.
You see, I left out the interesting conversation I had with the pain clinic doctor. While he gave an explanation for my symptoms I can accept, he continued with, “Since I moved to the south I find it helpful to use religious stories…”
My laugh startled him. Amused by his big picture perspective I gathered my wits and listened to his analogy, though it’s not worth repeating.
But since I responded by saying I thought he could do better, our conversation turned from medicine to theology. Before long I learned that he considers himself a citizen of the world; he believes every culture has their own version of the same folk/religious stories; and he doesn’t want to be a member of any group that leaves someone out.
Already worn down, his words spun my thoughts.
We wrestle in a world that calls us to accept everyone and everything. While I agree love needs to win far more than it has, I also believe living without theological boundaries opens us to a wide birth that includes the way to destruction.
Discerning where those boundaries fall takes a lot of time simmering in The Word. And since I'd been pulled to the depths, the docs explanation of his take on it all wearied my soul—until I sat in the coffee room with relative strangers, listening to bold prayers.
Connecting with others that want off the merry-go-round sometimes helped me surface and breath some fresh soul air.
Now, the shots are done. I don't see a doctor for several weeks. And I've almost finished this post.
Sometimes we have to just push through confusion, doubt, pain, and even more pain, trusting as we hold fast that He will meet us in the underworld and pull us from the depths. Cause right when you want to bolt, this song might start to play and before you know it, you might stand to your feet and sing along, thankful.
All photos courtesy of pixabay.com
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