November Days of Gratitude for November 10

Up today? Something I bet most of us take for granted ...

Today I'm thankful for my right arm!

Wait, what? No, I'm not getting increasingly desperate for subject matter just four days into this project! Bear with me here - there's a very good reason I'm thankful for this most utilitarian, least remarkable part of the human body.

Simply put, my right arm hasn't always worked. And now it does! Kind of, anyway: it doesn't work perfectly, mind you, and not always for very long. But there was a time when I pleaded with my husband, my parents, and even my surgical team to let me just amputate the damn thing. I was entirely serious, too - I felt that its constant pain and lack of function were ruining my life.

What happened? Well, I had two very stupid accidents. Not even car accidents - if you'll pardon the pun, both incidents were perfectly pedestrian slip-and-falls. The first time I wiped out, I slipped on ice leaving work, and managed to fall uphill. This cracked my collarbone and severed my rotator cuff, along with several other tendons and ligaments whose names I've blocked out. It was resolved with a pretty routine surgery, and I started physical therapy, doing well.

But then, four weeks later, I tripped over a thin, tough length of plastic set out on the floor of my office. (Am I the clumsiest person ever? Maybe!) I don't remember exactly what it was, but our company was in the process of moving to a new office, and the environment was chaos. Carrying an armful of supplies, I couldn't see the plastic strip ahead of me, and my forehead hit the carpet. This knocked my humerus out of its socket, ripped my labrum, and tore out some of the stitches holding my rotator cuff together.

In fact, I tore or broke every component of my shoulder. Every one. And thus I set sail on a yearslong odyssey of corrective surgeries - including a full shoulder replacement I underwent at just 31 - treatments, and therapies, all for … not a lot of results.

On my wedding day, there I stood, ten days out of my most recent surgery, my right arm cocooned in a three-part padded immobilizer. It took over the whole ceremony; it rendered my beautiful dress utterly irrelevant. And it insulated me both from my new husband and from everyone lined up to congratulate us with hugs.

That symbolism would prove a portent. For years, I was insulated from my own life! I didn't have the strength to push down on a soap dispenser with my right hand. I couldn't open my myriad of pill bottles. I couldn't wash a dish. I certainly couldn't work - the excessive scar tissue that had taken up residence between my shoulder and bicep was so painful that, sometimes, I could barely even think.

So, no writing - I physically couldn’t. No shopping - way too painful. No driving - and I could only be a passenger for short bits of carefully-chosen time. No trips to museums or theatres, no outdoor festivals, and, too often, no family get-togethers. So very many of my favorite parts of life were no longer available to me. And I was so young! Eventually burnt out on potential new treatments, not knowing what else to do, I just accepted it. I was, perplexingly, too disappointed to admit that I was disappointed. Looking back, I'm sure this was a defense mechanism, although an unfortunate one.

But.

Nearly eight years after the first accident, here I am: I'm driving again. I can walk around again without crippling pain - at least, a little bit! I can definitely push down on a soap dispenser. And, best of all, I'm off of all of the prescription pain medications that kept me from tearing my hair out for so many years.

What has made the difference? I'd like to say it was down to a certain herb I started taking in a tincture, or some kind of fancy new therapy. But I think it was just time. Though I still have my “wounds,” in the form of scars, time really does heal. And I'm so grateful for that.

I guess I'm grateful for my own strength, too. After all, I hung in there. I was determined to see it through and make my life one worth living, however diminished in scope it might be. I knew that God had a reason for giving me this experience, and now I see it. The injury and the healing process have both helped me provide empathetic, loving, and occasionally challenging support to my fiancé, Dave, as he struggles with PTSD. I'm so grateful that God set me up to understand some of what he's going through.

And, after all that, I'm grateful for this silly arm! In breaking in so many places, it showed me just how strong I can be. I needed to learn that. I'm so glad I didn't have it amputated - it does come in, er, handy pretty often.