Over my thirty-four years on this earth, God has blessed me with relatively good health and kept me from significant injury. Thus, when minor illnesses or injuries arise, I tend not to handle them well. Each time a setback comes my way, God has used it to teach me and has improved my response. This time marked no difference. Right before this school year started, I ended up flat on my back, incapable of almost all movement without help, a completely new and somewhat frightening experience.
Here’s how it all went down. Two weeks ago, I moved the remainder of my things, including my cart into my classroom, a normally simple task with a functioning elevator. Unfortunately, no one could confirm whether the elevator had been repaired. Since I did not fancy spending the day in a tiny box with insufficient air conditioning, I decided to haul everything up the stairs. While not ideal, I did not have much and I could manage individual boxes for that short distance, or at least I thought I could. Several people offered to help and, like a stubborn fool, I turned them down. If I had just had the boxes, I think my back would have been a little sore but I don’t think it would have progressed beyond that. The last thing I carried up the stairs was my cart, not heavy, but awkward which forced me to twist while I lifted.
I kept moving through the rest of the week. My poor choice did not yield the full consequences until that Friday. I worked out with a strength training work out the next day which included a set of 15 deadlift reps using a 40lb bar. I ran Thursday and should have known something was not right when I had to take multiple stretch breaks throughout the long day of work and open house. I chalked the tightness up to the long day and my decreased fitness from the month off. I even persisted in another run, this time after work – we had a half day Friday – on the treadmill to get out of the ridiculous heat and humidity.
An hour after I got home from that run, everything came crashing down. A turn away from my shelf became one turn too many. I have never felt pain like that before. When I first fell to my knees, I thought I would just have to wait a few moments before the cramped muscle would release the nerve and allow me to stand. The muscles held firm. I will spare you a step by step chronicle. Over the next week, the muscles gradually relaxed its hold. All of Friday evening and Saturday, I lay on the couch in my room, dozing, reading, and occasionally getting some work for school completed.
On the surface, this injury chose one of the least opportune times to strike. In the days to follow immediately after the initial injury, I had one work day to finish preparing my classroom. A day after that the students would arrive for the crucial first day of the school year at a new school, for me with an additional, brand new prep. In exactly two weeks from the injury, I was supposed to move all of my things, including my enormous book collection. (Yes, I’m moving. I will discuss that some time soon.) Finally, I had just gotten back to running after a break of a length I hope not to repeat for quite some time.
Jen from even a few years ago would have panicked immediately and started to spiral downwards. A quick glance at my journals from the time of my hamstring injury confirms this. While in pain on Friday, only a low, dull throb when I held still, I did not fight against it. I could not do anything that night beyond resting and conducting a “Facetime” doctor visit for a muscle relaxer prescription. (She also gave fantastic advice to use heat rather than ice.)
The next morning, I doubted. I assumed that after taking the muscle relaxer the night before and sleeping all night that I would have at least some improvement. I expected God to work on my timetable. Wise words from Mom helped me refocus, helped avert the downward spiral. God has used her more times that I can count to speak wisdom when I doubt. Instead of worrying about the ramifications of the downtime or stressing about all that I could not do, I took up residence on the couch once again and relaxed, placing my healing in God’s hands and doing only what I could do: take the muscle relaxer as prescribed, turn on a heating pad for fifteen minutes at a time, and relax.
Over the next week, God provided amazing healing. I count myself incredibly fortunate. I was able to attend church Sunday evening and did not miss a day of work. By the following Saturday, God had provided enough healing that I ran for an hour with Mom. As He continued to provide this healing, He also directed my thoughts to thankfulness. Every time I thought about how much more mobility I had, God directed my mind towards those who never gain relief on this earth. He gave me a sense of gratefulness for relief, appreciation for those who help in those times of need, and admiration for those who persist despite the pain. While I hope to avoid foolish mistakes like that in the future, I thank God for all He taught me through it.