It's The Little Things...Like Going to the Bathroom by Yourself!

It's funny. Most of us are so used to life. Our alarm goes off way too early, we roll over, hit the snooze button, eventually get up get up, get dressed, run down the stairs, grab a cup of coffee on the way out. We get in the car, drive to work, or school, or gym, or wherever. Throughout the day we do go to the bathroom when we need to, we walk or run from place to place, we pick up something that we dropped. After work maybe we go grab a drink with a friend, or work out, or come home to our families, or roommates, or to a quiet house, we make dinner, we read, or watch a little tv, we eventually take a shower, get ready for bed and it starts all over again the next day.

Obviously, that was super generalized. But the point being many of us kind of coast through life without thinking how perfectly our bodies work to do the daily things we do each day. Like go to the bathroom by ourselves. Like drive ourselves. Like walk up or down the stairs. As I lay there on the couch with my leg up, ice packs on it, the utter helplessness that engulfed me, the total dependency I had on those who were helping me, it hit me. I couldn't do anything by myself for a while. I had to call someone from another room to hand me something that was a foot and half away from me. I had to have help going to the bathroom, I had to have help showering, going up or down stairs the first several days? Forget it! Driving? HA! Not happening for a while.  I couldn't even roll over. Dang.

I'm not sure I have words to explain how shocking this was for me--I who had been so self sufficient, so independent couldn't do ANYTHING for myself or BY myself! I, who was the helper, the care-giver, the one very willing to serve and give of myself in however I could to help someone couldn't even help myself. Oh sweet vulnerability. Humility. Surrender. How do you pray during something like that?

There is a picture of Jesus that some of my friends and I call the 'hot Jesus" (don't be scandalized people or take it the wrong way! it's just one of the few pictures of Jesus that the artist did a beautiful job of making Him look handsome!) this picture hung on the wall that I faced while laying on the couch. So on those many days that followed as I lay there, with really nothing to say--when you're in a lot of pain and foggy from the meds, there's not much to say most days...Or that was the case for me. I'm sure everyone has different experiences.  But most days, it was all I could do to just look at Him and He would look at me. That was my prayer, my plea, an exchange of hearts through a gaze. That was all I could do. And somehow--that was enough...Breathing it all in with acceptance seemed to be important. Not fighting and angry that I was where I was. Surrendering. But not giving up. If you give up in an injury like that, then you lose. Losing was not an option for me. Coming back 100%, better, stronger, THAT had to be what I looked towards. But in the meantime, breathing, Breathing in Jesus, breathing out peace.  Breathing...

My first shower post surgery was literally over a 2 hour endeavor. No joke, the things we take for granted... My second shower  we thought might be a little quicker cause we had figured out a system that seemed to work. We put a chair in the shower and I could sit on the chair with my leg propped up on the walker (yes, I was a rock-star, I didn't just have crutches, I had a WALKER! ha! just call me 'grandma!" )  Long story short,  this 2nd shower didn't work as well, I leaned too far forward when I had just sat down on the chair and the chair slipped out from underneath me making my knee go into a waaaay deeper flexion then it was ready for.  OUCH!!!! I slightly panicked thinking I had re-injured it. 

As I'm crying, the phone rings, it was the Physical Therapy place they were calling to let me know they had run my insurance and it turned out my insurance didn't cover outpatient PT, so I would have to pay out of pocket. 12 wks of PT. 2-3 times a wk. I cried harder. The phone rang again--this time one of the gyms where I teach a fitness class saying I wouldn't be able to come back to work cause of HR stuff with the injury would need to take a leave blah blah blah. More tears.  Phone rings again (Don't answer! was my thought as each call seemed to be worse news!) The hospital--again about insurance 'stuff'. Long story short? I would be paying between $8,000-$10,000 out of pocket. Sometimes all you can do is cry from the pain. From the stress. From exhaustion. From too much emotional and mental stimuli in too short amount of time. And so I did. Trust. Breathe. Somehow it would be ok. Let me tell you talking to yourself can be a great thing! haha


Today, whatever you're going through--breathe. Sometimes that's enough. Simply breathing. Not fighting it, not ranting and raving (although I think THAT is also an important part of the healing process) but breathing...Breathe....

“Sometimes it's the same moments that take your breath away that breathe purpose and love back into your life.” 

Just for a fun. Here's a little Matt Kearney for ya! Breathe