Sunday, March 18, 2012

Fog and Pain

I just wanted to visit some friends.

Woke up early, dressed, maybe took a few too many minutes to get ready.
Grabbed some pancake ingredients, put the eggs in a baggie in my pocket.
Put on my sneakers- maybe they were moccasins- ran out the door into the brisk morning.

"It's  going to be okay, I am an occupational therapist!" A strange man stopped his white 15 passenger and ran to my side as I lay on the icy ground grasping for air.

The eggs survived.
Two months ago, my last normal step.

Today the beautiful Narragansett Bay looked sun kissed and the green grass was frolic ready. I took my first step and felt a twang. If it isn't my knee, it's my foot. Probably both. After every step I forget, and during every step I remember. Guilt creeps in, I feel lazy, but then I take another step and the pain shoots up my leg.

The doctor said I need a second opinion. All I have to do is call the specialist. I've turned into my dad.
"I don't want to bother anyone to take me."
"I don't want to pay for any procedure."
"I cant afford to take off work."

I'm going to die alone?

If I tie my shoes extra tight, and the orthopedic insert fits perfectly into my lackluster arch- I can make this work. How ridiculous.

Where is my trust in God for provision and healing? Where is my reliance on people for support and help? Where is my "can-do" attitude that wants to conquer all? Where am I?

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