365 Days Have Passed

 

It's ironic that I'm going to have a different procedure tomorrow.

I don't remember the lead-up to my spinal surgery. I don't know if I was scared or not. All I do remember is overwhelming pain. Excruciating pain. Suicidal-level pain.

That surgery was a success in that the bone spurs surrounding the spinal cord were removed. The sciatic bit wasn't so fortunate. We had put this surgery off for a year and a half due to COVID; the damage can not be reversed.

Sucks to be me. LOL Seriously, there isn't anything that will heal the damage. I can accept that. Keep on keeping on. I think part of that mentality was gained by observing my Dad.

His knees were severely damaged. He loved gymnastics and trampoline. Those knees didn't. They removed cartilage from each one. I can still remember the way the scars felt when my little hands traced them.

He was also the breadwinner. His job as an engineer and later a tech took him all sorts of locations. Those locations required walking while carrying heavy stuff. My Dad worked well into his 70s. He never complained.

My own ankles and feet are deformed. If Dad could work with pain, I could certainly walk around the school campus. And I could still hold a job and stand all day. Until it got to the point where I couldn't. That was a horrible sense of defeat.

Yet my Dad continued. And Jeff, with all his knee damage, continued to do his thing. So it makes sense that I should continue as best as I can.

My younger cousin once said, "You don't know how strong you are until you lose strength." She's had a rough decade and a lot of loss. I don't agree with her sentiment. In truth, you don't know your own strength until you face a difficult challenge. Sometimes you will surprise yourself with just how strong you actually are.

Another good quote comes to mind. "Get a firm grip on shit and continue to climb." My best friend, Gwen, said one dull afternoon. She convinced me to go rock climbing in Garden of the Gods. I fell, of course, and bounced down seven whole feet. (This lead to our inside joke about weightlifters not being able to haul their own weight. God, I miss her.)

So there it is. No sense in crying about it, or punishing myself for it, or thinking less of myself over it. I intend to reshape my life once more. Find a one level house, decorate it in a way that lifts Jeff and my spirits. Continue to make the car payment. Find humor on dark days. Live. Laugh. Love.