When Your Surgeon Looks Disappointed

“Did the surgery turn out as you expected?” I asked.

“No,” he said with genuine disappointment in his eyes.

“I performed the same surgery on a lady the same day as yours, and she is up and around and doing well.”

On October 2nd, 2015 my surgeon attempted to correct a herniated disc problem that had been plaguing me since February. I went through several preliminary treatments, trying to avoid the “S” word. But in the end, it was my next logical option.

The good new is that I can rest on my back relatively pain-free now.

The bad news?—I  can only stay upright for brief moments. I can barely take care of my self. I have no choice but to take short-term disability and hope I’ll be able to do my job again in several months. I’m on Morphine and Valium to manage pain.

It’s Thursday, October 15. It’s a new day. I’m up. Dawn is out taking a walk. Heidi is at school.

And I have nothing to do.

It took me a while this morning to decide if was able to find and retrieve my glasses from the floor next to my bed. I could and I did.

Part of me hears Rocky music in my head: “Yeah, I’m gonna figure this out. I’m gonna beat this thing.” Another part of me thinks I’ll just make things worse.

At the moment, there’s not much I can do that involves more than 30 seconds of uprightness, anyway. What can I accomplish with 30 seconds?—Brush my teeth, if I hurry.

Our next move is another MRI. Dreading that. Sure, I want answers, but I don’t want the pain that comes with getting me out of the house, into a car, into a wheelchair, onto a magnetic donut and back again.

I’m only 52, I’m not ready to stop living. Here’s to hoping I’m only dreaming in slo-mo, or that a genius doctor will find the reboot switch, or that God will grant me a long and active life.

For now, all I can do is wonder, and type on this 1″ x 2″ virtual keyboard.

Thanks for listening while I whine. I promise it won’t be like this every day.

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13 thoughts on “When Your Surgeon Looks Disappointed

  1. I will be praying for you, Lon. I do not know what it is to go thru what you’re going thru. Take care of yourself. And whine whenever you want.

  2. Sorry to hear things have gone south. If you get to where you feel like it, let me know and I will come by. I’d love to see you and pray with you.

  3. Bad news from a doctor is no fun. I’m sorry you are in that much pain. I wish there were an “OFF” switch for pain, when it gets to be too much. I’ll be praying for healing for you, too, Lon.

    Also, since you are on narcotics and you can’t walk–that is a recipe for stopping you up. I hope they told you that and are aggressively managing that. Things like stool softeners are recommended.

  4. Lon, you are such an encourager to everyone else, and it sure does make my heart feel good about humanity when I see everyone’s kind words of encouragement for you. I’m so sorry about this trial you are having to endure. Pain is no fun. But I see you as such a strong, confident and persistent man, and I believe with all my heart and with God’s grace, you will get through it. You will soon be looking back on this and smiling at God’s goodness and mercy. You will soon be back in your wood shop creating beautiful things, and going outdoors to take in the scenery and the fresh air. But for now….for now….rest in His arms, knowing He’s right there with you, and listen for that still small voice to speak to you. These seasons of being forced to sit still are rare, but they can produce precious fruit like no other times in your life. May God commune with you in a special way during this time, and may He have mercy and end this pain soon.

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