I awoke this morning to back pain. I wrote in an email to a member of our family who is an emergency room/trauma physician that it feels like two tectonic plates of stone jockeying for position in my back with an overtone of toothache-style siren song pain. The seismic stuff can be talked into calming down with a twist or wiggle or repositioning my back. It is that ever-present siren pain that makes me the most uncomfortable.
I had a follow up visit with neurosurgeon Dr. Mike Gorum this morning and told him about the pain. He said, “Mike, you’re recovering from back surgery. That was no small procedure we did inside your back. That is why you’re in pain.” I was encouraged by that. That this is normal recovery pain versus tumor pain is comforting — if pain of this magnitude can possibly be comforting. Well, you know what I mean.
I want to thank our Mac consultant, Gerrit DeWitt, for getting this blog moved to its new location complete with a workable email notification system. Beginning with this email, those of you who were regular readers of my former carepages site will be informed when there is a new post to read. I’ll also be posting to facebook and Twitter so that others who are interested in my journey will be alerted to the presence of a new post. Jill and I read every post multiple times. I’m drawing strength from them, so don’t hold back.
In addition to the daily and constant gift of the love of Jill, I’m experiencing other healing moments. Marquette McKnight invited me to go with her yesterday afternoon to a photo shoot below the falls of the river below the Chattahoochee RiverClub. We walked down the Alabama side and picked our way out on smooth river rocks into the middle of the river bed below the chute nearest that side of the river and watched four experienced whitewater kayakers makes multiple runs down the chute. I shot 300 images of the action and then headed back toward shore. I didn’t want to get caught in a situation where I would need speed to make my way back, so I ambled back toward the west.
About half way, standing at the northernmost outcropping of rock as close to the cascading dam as I could get, I found a great spot to meditate. Standing there in the breeze, under a blue sky, enveloped in the sound of rushing water, I dropped my arms by my sides and gave my face to the sun. I let my mind run on up the road to that place where I’m whole again with a hopeful future. I asked my God for patience to endure the methodical pace of medicine, the forms, the same old questions. I asked my God to heal me. I said another word of thanks for the legion of good people who are standing with me and my family right now. My prayers are humble, but my countenance is drawn.
I turned and walked back to the safety of the sandy shoreline. I’m off the rocks and leaving the rising river behind.
If only that were so……