fracturing me

There wasn’t the time to even comprehend regret. It started as a thought and the second I’d agreed with the idea, I was flying through midair summersault crying out in surprise and with no time to anticipate how to brace myself from the catapult. Drawn with great magnetism to the edge of the asphalt track, I connecting with the unrefined concrete. My face grazed shallowly against the path, thanks to the chunky helmet that I had reluctantly begun the journey with. Still the head banging (twice that I recalled) ricocheted confusion.  Almost simultaneously, there entered with heavy intrusion, the means of all this pain, the silver frame of my father’s bicycle. Instinctively, I tried to lift myself from this position of pain, but after an exhausted attempt to free myself from the collapsed metal atop of me, I gave up and my body groaned with overall displeasure. Alas, I waited a torturous ten seconds or so while my husband ran over to me to collect my damaged body and defend my legs from merciless mosquitoes.

Since then, it’s been three long days between roundabout appointments, waiting and wishing for morning because this is the least I’ve enjoyed sleep.  This said, I do feel a little stronger each day, regarding pain threshold and resolve wise.  It was diagnosed as a hairline fracture along the left arm radial head and neck – amongst grazes and impressive bruises. I felt relief for being a sook over a fracture (though I never cried about the pain); if it were only a sprain, I might be accused of being rather weak. Weakness.  Ahh, that nemesis of mine whom I both love and loath.  I’ve been perpetually confronted with most manners of weakness these last few days: physical pain, uncertainty, self-pity, feelings of inadequacy, requiring help for menial tasks, tiredness, the thought of being burdensome upon the love of my life, having a shorter fuse, and being very slow, etc…

Yet, how much my spirit has heaved relief at the very obvious reminder that I am not invincible, nor was I ever independent of anyone.  It also forced patience to begin that painful work of accepting with grace those unable to meet “normal” expectations – namely myself this time.  It also gave a noticeable leap to that challenge within me to make the most of every scenario.  It seemed that when I had finally begun to enjoy and rest in the slowing down, it was almost immediately that Hectic revved up and I found myself dreading my usual schedule – exhausted.  My emotions have been achingly unpredictable.  However, I think now I have embraced this fracture to my norm.  After all, apparently, bones will never break in the same place twice, because once recovered, are stronger than before – I take it this applies to life also.

My latest cerebral celebration is the growing determination to need to overcome.  Thoughts about learning every way to be single-handed for the next few weeks/months.  I’m still rather proud of being able to satisfactorily and quite quickly tie my shoelaces with my right hand, alone.

My imagination falls short of what I know this experience is going to teach me.  But I am incredibly humbled and anticipating epiphanies of how blessed I am to have, well, everything and everyone in my life.  At this early stage of recovery, I am already amazed at my exceptional husband, friends and my students who excited tell me they’ve been praying for me.  I mean, it really isn’t that bad a deal to have a hairline fracture that doesn’t require plastering, in my unpreferred arm.  Perhaps because I’m not one who usually gets sick or stays injured, that this sudden “surprise” really had me evaluating myself and why I was taking it the way I was.

A quote I’ve retained from one high school was “with weakness comes understanding”.  I think my definition of weakness is being recalibrated.  It isn’t weakness having a part of your body not work effectively, it’s a strength learning how to be resourceful and creative enough to compensate for it without complaining.  I’m learning that to endure lack without complaint is never weakness, it is the quiet and solid strength that I admire in others.

I can say this now after pouring my unfamiliarity with pain all out to God who replied with overwhelming peace, assurance and smiles.  I’m not going to be naive in thinking the hardest part is over in this session of fracture, though I’d like to think the hardest part is over.  I’m just grateful that the learning never stops, the loving never stops and I am safe wherever I am, however I am.