Livin' the Dream

We had another one of those mix ups in our house last week. The kind where Don accidentally fixes decaf coffee for me instead of the rev-up-your-engines brew. I don’t know how much to blame recent fatigue on the coffee versus the anti-inflammatory, but by Saturday, I couldn’t stay out of bed.

Two caffeinated mornings later, I feel glimmers of perky Susan. But pain forced me to swallow another anti-inflammatory in the middle of the night, somewhat dulling the effects. And I’ll most likely juggle the two for the next several months.

According to the MRI of my right hip, there’s a “partial thickening tear at the gluteus medius tendon.” While there’s hope the tear will heal without surgical intervention, after visiting with the neurosurgeon PA last Friday, I now have a surgical consult for my back scheduled in mid-July.

Continued leg weakness necessitates a serious look into fusing the L-4 / L-5 joint. The thought wearies my soul. But the more we spoke, the more I realized the surgery might help stabilize my legs.

The previous fusion did just that for a time. So, there’s reason to believe this one will too.

A video conference call with the hip surgeon’s PA just offered new insight as well. She fit a few pieces of the puzzle together in a way I understand. The hip probably irritates the back issue, so I’ll undergo an ultrasound guided shot into my hip in just two days—which means I might walk a little better at the beach!

While hope of relief has brightened my day, pain and fatigue frustrated me a lot last week. I spent both Wednesday and Saturday getting up and going back to bed, and then repeating the cycle till I felt like a slug.

In the midst of those dark days, two celebrities committed suicide, which led to a lot of talk about mental illness. On the personal front, I have yet to live through days filled with extreme fatigue without the weight of depression. But I also have yet to live through a period of depression that hasn’t given way to a brighter day.

It takes time. A lot of time. But while there are many things I’d rather do than sit around feeling sad, sometimes it's exactly what I have to do to wade back to the place of joy.

Don finished his last appointment early on Saturday and lulled me from bed with the promise of shopping. After a rice bowl at Moe’s, we headed to Eddie Bauer where I scoured the sales rack for Father’s Day gifts. My legs almost stayed strong, strapped in my AFO’s. But at times, my knee buckled and Don offered his arm for support.

Interspersed throughout, he paused and belted, “We’re livin’ the dream, Susan. Just livin’ the dream.”

Still annoyed with my tired day and feeling quite off, I mostly shook my head in response. But he kept saying it. And by the time we got home after watching our granddaughter perform in a musical, I almost believed him.

Nothing had really changed. I readily crashed into bed when we got home. But the more he'd made his claim, the more my definition of dream settled into the moment that was.

Instead of lamenting out-of-reach ideals, eating out, buying a few gifts, and watching children perform became a dream of value.

So, that means we're livin' the dream.

And I'm going to keep telling myself that. Cause a few months back, a man at our church shared the entire Serenity Prayer right before he was baptized. And I think I'll say it several more times in the coming weeks:

"God grant me the serenity

to accept the things I cannot change;

courage to change the things I can;

and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

enjoying one moment at a time;

accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

taking, as He did, this sinful world

as it is, not as I would have it;

trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His Will;

that I may be reasonably happy in this life