I can't describe how much I hated hearing that. I gasped in shock as the specialist explained the problem and solution. The healing time after the surgery is six weeks of wearing a sling. I immediately thought of all that I would miss out on in wearing a sling for six weeks, activities like carrying the baby, holding my other children, cycling, snowboarding, and the small day to day things like dressing myself. The decision essentially came down to suffering along in my current condition, making do as I have been, or choosing the temporary pain and setback of surgery and the healing time associated with it in order to properly heal my shoulder.
I left the office heavily contemplating the choice. Of course it is obvious that total healing is the most desirable, but it is always hard to voluntarily give up freedom, even temporarily. By the time I got home, I decided to schedule my surgery for the dead of winter. The baby turns one year old on January 20 and hopefully will be walking. I can ride a stationary bike indoors from the end of January through March when I can start outside again. Hopefully I can get a few good snowboarding days in before the end of January as well. Shawn even suggested we take our bikes out to Red Rocks, NV to ride the weekend before the surgery.
Like all of life's experiences both good and bad, I immediately started looking for the symbolic meaning and spiritual lesson. I know that life is first spiritual, then temporal, so unraveling the temporal experience for the spiritual meaning is one of my favorite pasttimes. The thought that came to mind was the proverb Christ used in Luke 4:23, Physician, heal thyself.
I've spent some time pondering that statement and reading talks and articles discussing the many meanings and applications of that simple phrase. My mind settled on a visual image of a tangled mess I recently spent hours sorting out.
Let me preface the reason for sorting the tangle. Despite my aversion to handicrafts due to my sheer incompetence with making things with my hands, I agreed to join in a preschool activity exchange. Each participant was to make 23 identical lessons to exchange with the rest of the group. One of the activities I made was incredibly simple for those who are capable with their hands. For me, it was a nightmare. I had to shop for the craft materials and assemble "fishing poles" made of bamboo sticks, yarn, and magnets. Easy enough, right? Wrong. I procrastinated and dragged my feet at every stage of the making. Finally after several weeks of cajoling from the rest of the group, who rightfully needed the lesson I had not finished, I forced myself to take it on.
After assembling and gluing my fishing poles in place, I left them in the corner of the room to dry. Relief was sweet when I finished this project, so sweet that I forgot all about the fishing poles for a few hours. When I went to put them in their respective activity bags, what I found nearly sent me into a frenzied rage, and a whirlwind of tears all at the same time.
Yes, this was the nastiest yarn tangle I've ever seen in my life--worse than any failed yo-yo, cat's in the cradle, or knitting attempt combined. The reason it was worse was because of the magnets that all stuck to each other all throughout the tangle. My two and three year old children had a better time doing this than I think they'll ever have doing the actual preschool fishing activity.It took me a few minutes and a few prayers to regain my composure. I was at that place, the one I recognized again at the doctor's office a few weeks later, the place I had to decide what to do. I could throw them away and start the process all over, try to cut the yarn and reattach it, or do my best to untangle it.
I forced a deep sigh to clear the negativity from my mind and sat down on my bed with my little ball of useless fishing poles. Shawn looked up from his book, gawking with morbid interest. "Why don't you just throw it away? It's too messed up," he said. "I put some serious effort into creating those poles, no way I'm just going to toss them. They are worth salvaging, to me. I'm gonna fix it," I said. Then he sighed the "whatever" sigh and shook his head.
Where to start? The line on each pole was 2 feet long and there seemed to be only an inch of wiggle room left on each fishing pole. The rest of the line was caught up in the tangle. All the magnets hugged tightly to each other, making any sorting difficult. It was close to midnight and the kids were in bed. Concentration at this level would have been nearly impossible otherwise. Determination took hold and I set about picking and pulling at numerous little knots.
An hour later Shawn said, "It almost looks like you're doing some weird Chinese puzzle." He was fascinated with the intensity on my face and the clicking of the sticks as the yarn bobbed over and under my hands. It must have been mesmerizing, because he was asleep and snoring long before the first pole came out from the tangle.
Once that first pole was freed, my determination doubled. My faith in the possibility it could be fixed doubled as well. My mind turned over the many applications of this experience. I remember thinking that I'd recall this visual whenever I was in a seemingly impossible, difficult, or hopeless situation and gain courage, faith and perspective from it. Several hours passed as my eyes became heavier. Progress was slow. I thought of my many ancestors who were better at handicrafts than I and prayed for their help. Finally another pole emerged, then another. Three hours from taking on this task, it was finally complete.
I couldn't help but feel at the time I finished that the experience was metaphorical to one or more upcoming trials or experiences I'd face. Whether my surgery is one, or any other number of problems in my life or the lives of my family, I have the faith that full recovery and an overall joyous resolution can be achieved. Faith, patience, and dogged persistence do a lot in creating positive results.
Now these stick and yarn fishing poles hold a special place in my heart. I learned an amazing lesson from them. Here's to surgery! :)
