ten years ago, i carried all the boxes full of Christmas decorations down from the attic. the next day, i had this sharp pain between my ribs and hip bone. for three months, it twinged and pulled at me, defying diagnosis or relief. then, days before we would find out my husband has thyroid cancer, it seemed to POP and disappear during a yoga session. happy to not have that to deal with while navigating the strange new world we'd been thrown into, i called it cured and moved on.
through the years since then, it has flared up whenever i dug a new garden, moved furniture, etc. rest seemed to help and then everything would be fine for another little while. each new doctor i took it to concentrated on a different organ they were sure must be causing the pain. nope, not the gallbladder, nor IBS. not the appendix, or the uterus or the ovaries. gradually, i became less and less active in fear that there might be something serious going on.
this year i tried a new doctor. Dr. Charles listened to my symptoms, looked where i was pointing and said "that has to be muscular, there's no organs there!" such relief at being validated! even as i walked out sore because i had just, again, gotten the boxes down from the attic, i felt so full of possibilities and hope. a different set of eyes, a different day and a whole new future opens up.
this week, i started physical therapy. like Naaman driving up to Elisha, i expected something dramatic or at the least a bit difficult. i went home with directions to lie prone for five minutes several times a day and to do some simple stretches. like Naaman, i wanted to protest. surely there's more to it than that! begrudgingly, all this week i have found that when i do what they've assigned, i feel better. as in, maybe i could go running again better. as in, maybe i could get stronger and defend myself from injury instead of hiding on the couch. being strong sounds good.
through the years since then, it has flared up whenever i dug a new garden, moved furniture, etc. rest seemed to help and then everything would be fine for another little while. each new doctor i took it to concentrated on a different organ they were sure must be causing the pain. nope, not the gallbladder, nor IBS. not the appendix, or the uterus or the ovaries. gradually, i became less and less active in fear that there might be something serious going on.
this year i tried a new doctor. Dr. Charles listened to my symptoms, looked where i was pointing and said "that has to be muscular, there's no organs there!" such relief at being validated! even as i walked out sore because i had just, again, gotten the boxes down from the attic, i felt so full of possibilities and hope. a different set of eyes, a different day and a whole new future opens up.
this week, i started physical therapy. like Naaman driving up to Elisha, i expected something dramatic or at the least a bit difficult. i went home with directions to lie prone for five minutes several times a day and to do some simple stretches. like Naaman, i wanted to protest. surely there's more to it than that! begrudgingly, all this week i have found that when i do what they've assigned, i feel better. as in, maybe i could go running again better. as in, maybe i could get stronger and defend myself from injury instead of hiding on the couch. being strong sounds good.
2 Kings 5: 13 Naaman’s servants went to him and said, “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much more, then, when he tells you, ‘Wash and be cleansed’!” 14 So he went down and dipped himself in the Jordan seven times, as the man of God had told him, and his flesh was restored and became clean like that of a young boy.This post is part of the weekly Five Minute Friday link-up come, scroll around, find new blogging friends!
It's so hard to do the work, isn't it? Except the work is where we get better; where our bodies strengthen and our faith grows. Thank you for these wise reflections! (Your FMF neighbor.)
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