This post is coming out of a place of weakness.
The surgery did go well. The doctors and therapists are all pleased with my progress. But there are days when it hurts worse, and today was one of those days.
I've written two prior drafts and scrapped them both because they came out less than honorable. So you're getting this one. It's the best I can do.
I knew in this process of healing and reestablishing what life would look like that there would be hard days. But you don't know how hard those days will hit until they come.
I'll spare you many of the details, but I will say this: The last several weeks have been beating my heart and my mind like two egg yolks about to be used in a soufflé.
My doctors and therapists, however pleased they may be with my progress, keep reminding me about my chances of getting back to full motion and capabilities. I took a test this week at therapy, and am at about 67% of where I was before the accident.
I keep fighting tooth and nail at work to pick up any kind of progress or momentum, to no avail. And that's despite being released back to full time work and a big weekend sale.
I keep having to haggle with the company covering the workman's compensation claim for numerous reasons, and am getting nowhere with them.
So between all of these things, it all blew up in my face at work today in a really rather odd turn of events.
It took every ounce of strength to get dressed this morning and go into work for the final day of this big sale we were doing to try and make anything come of it. Then at the morning pep rally for the sales people, they talked about finding the reason why you were there, and all I could think about were my wife and kids. And about how every single day my kids ask me if I have sold a car, because they know that's how I earn money at this job. And about how my answers have been either "No" "Not today" or "Technically, yes" every day I've been back. And about how I really had no idea why I was doing it at all anymore, because it all seemed so fruitless. They made everybody chant things like "Today is my day" and "I've got this" and all I could think about was how uncertain I was of those things. I couldn't even muster up the strength to say the words aloud with everyone else, but rather to stand with them in silence wondering if this shell shock would pass and if I'd be able to move on with the possibility of a successful day, or if I'd just be stuck there all day.
Then after all the hubbub one of my coworkers came up to me and asked me how I was. And I immediately started choking back tears. Which of course, shocked him quite a bit. After some tears and very intense conversations with my managers, one of them let me have the rest of the day to spend with my family in order to try and get better.
I spent the better part of the day between quiet reflection and breaking down.
Will I and my family be okay? Yes. I do trust and believe that all things do (still) work for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose. And that's me. And my family.
Do I know how we'll be okay? Right now, no. But I made the choice today to not worry about tomorrow and all of it's questions. I chose to enjoy my family and the time I had with them. And it made a difference.
