Wednesday, December 15, 2010

The Sound of One Hand Typing

I made it to a lunch function at church yesterday. An older gentleman stumbled and fell against my weaker left side. To right himself, he clutched my shoulder-digging his boney fingers into the joint. By the end of the meal I was in more pain than I have felt in some time. Now my arm and shoulder are on fire. From deep in my arm pit, cresting over the ridge of the joint and coursing under, along and through the fibers of my arm. My fingers are weak and cold. It hurts so much I can't seem to keep tears from fogging up my glasses.

I am so very, very tired. Tired from not sleeping. Tired of a simple accident sending me to such a dark place. I even called my doctor for help, even though my gut knows that nerve pain like this is 'treatment resistant.' 

I will paste on with the strongest glue my I can handle it persona. What choice do I have. How does one put on their big girl panties, one handed? The same way I am typing this with just my right hand's middle three fingers

I wrote this earlier today on Facebook, responding to a friend who has her own army of ogres to face: 
... For me, it is make your own survival. I choose breathe in with the next exhale; I choose the salty tinny taste of Progresso beef barley soup as worth turning the page; I choose to acknowledge that I am part of God's kingdom. I choose each tiny molecule of detail that propels me forward. It never is a thunder bolt on a clear blue sky kind of moment that makes me keep going. It is little moment by moment choices that at the good, no better times, roll by unnoticed. But, on the grimmest days, are enough...

Friends, thank you for reading and walking alongside on my journey. Keep my hubbie in your thoughts, when things with me are this bad, he bears the full weight of keeping the home fires burning. And this time of year includes trees, and presents, and all things Christmas. I don't feel able to chat on the phone or have folks over whith this acute episode. That leaves him in the thankless task of gatekeeper. If he doesn't hand the phone over, it is at my request. Email is the best way to reach me until this wildfire burns over.

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