Me: “What are the odds that if I take my MRI and x-rays to another orthopedic surgeon that he’s going to tell me something different from what you’re telling me right now?”
Dr. Cooper: “Not a chance.”
Me: “Okay. Can you do the surgery next week? My parents are going to be here.”
Dr. Cooper: “I’ll call your bluff.”
Here I am, day seven of nearly 100. On December 20th, I had major surgery on my right ankle. I will be in casts for three months and unable to drive. Let that sink in. I can’t drive my kids to school, appointments, activities … nor myself to the grocery store, Costco or Home Goods. I have crutches and a scooter so I can move from place to place. For those who don’t know me, the appropriate response is a gasp, followed by a deer-in-the-headlights look of disbelief. Thank you for your empathy.
As I try to wrap my brain around the “whats” and the “hows” of this winter – as it will truly be all winter – I also hear a still, small voice in the background that is excited. This is going to be a teaching season for everyone in my family. There is always a purpose for disappointment. The kids are all going to have to do more around the house and less outside of it. Greg, already blowing my mind with his servant’s heart, is going above and beyond and his patience and stamina are mind-blowing. And me? I’m going to have to learn to be still and let go.
As I face these months of slowing down and I allow my expectations to be molded into reality, I pray I will take the time to learn what God is teaching me, write about all that’s been on my heart, and heal an ankle that has ailed me since middle school.
I’m excited and reluctant, afraid and annoyed. I’m sad that I won’t be able to ski or do any of the fun winter activities I love to do with the kids. But I am determined to take advantage of this time. And if anyone wants to hang out, you know where to find me.
I’m particularly interested in catching a ride to – well – anywhere, but especially Home Goods.