Back to square . . something

I couldn’t call this square one, but it isn’t where we were.

The bone graft was Monday.  It went well.  Bone was removed from Emily’s hip and placed into the break in her lower leg that wasn’t healing.  Three and half months post-wreck, her right foot was evaluated and deemed healed enough to bear weight as tolerated.  That’s good, right?  I guess both of these things are progress.

But from a practical standpoint, this means that chronic pain is part of Emily’s life again.  Not occasional pain when she does too much or the weather is changing.  Chronic pain that narcotics will dull but not end.  That intensifies when she moves any part of her body in any direction. 

Mobility is an issue again.  No more scooter for a while.  Her recently-operated-on left leg can’t tolerate the weight and pressure that putting it on the scooter would generate, and her right foot isn’t strong enough or pain-free enough to do the work of propelling her forward.  So if you see us the next few weeks, you’ll see a wheelchair again.

So this isn’t square one, but it’s not where we were.  And it feels like square one.

When is enough, enough?  Or too much?  When does my sweet girl who has kept such a good attitude through all of this get a break?  In the middle of all of this, do you know what she wants for Christmas?  To be able to go to Children’s Hospital and take gifts to the kids who are in the hospital on Christmas day. 

I’m trying to keep my long range focus and remember that suffering produces character and character produces hope and that hope does not disappoint us.  I’m trying to remember that this world is just a broken and crazy place and that the challenge is in finding God in the midst of the crazy brokenness.  That broken craziness doesn’t mean that God is not present.

The middle child in me wants some fairness, here and now.  Not waiting.  Not big picture.  Not down the road.  Here.  Now.  Fairness.  Ease.  Maybe not even “easy,” but not so many hard things at once and for so long. 

Right now, I’m missing the idea of going to my Grandmother’s house.  Of being cared for and nourished and away from my every day life.  Of a slower pace, a calmer environment, and very little responsibility beyond my own personal needs. I often wonder what words of wisdom she would be able to give me in the middle of all of this.

But here and now, I am getting up and going into the kitchen and making pancakes.  Because I can.  I have the ingredients and the ability and so I will.  There are 100+ things in my life that I can’t do anything about, but I can make pancakes.  And so I will.

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One thought on “Back to square . . something

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  1. I bet Grandmother wouldn't say anything. I bet she'd be making pancakes. And her Bible and “Power for Today” sitting quietly on the counter would say the rest.

    Just my guess.

    I bet your pancakes were great. My pecan biscuit spirals for D's birthday breakfast burned! Which was funny because he had just been talking earlier about how we could maybe get a new stove/oven soon, and I was saying how much I would like that….

    Like

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