Time Is On My Side?

I was nine years old when the Rolling Stones took to the airwaves with the slow ballad, which boldly proclaimed, “Time is on my side”. Even now, I can hear the music in my mind as though it was playing on the radio in the next room. The song was about a lost love, and the confidence of a reunion, but the line, time is on my side, became the mantra of my generation. We could accomplish anything we wanted with whatever time we desired to invest in it, because time was on our side. The world was big back then and the possibilities were endless.

Now, my children have families and careers of their own. My children’s children are growing into active kids with minds of their own. The students I taught are out in the world doing their own grown up things. The repetitious phrase, “Time is on My Side,” doesn’t feel like it’s true anymore. In fact, the opposite seems true, “Time isn’t on my side.” It is actually working against me, and I had better get on the ball, or it will pass me by all together. There are things that my limitations will no longer allow me to do. But those limitations do not hinder me from doing other (really good) things.

This is not an “I’m getting old,” lament but rather a time is precious proclamation. I read an article about men in nursing homes and the regrets they had in common. They wished they hadn’t worked so much, spent more time with their families, and took more vacations. They wished they had invested more in people and less in the pursuit of profits.

Here is what I am trying to say:

Don’t wait for lost love to return. Pursuit it.

Don’t watch life pass you by. Live it.

Accept a new challenge. It’s not too late to try.

Tell people how much you care about them. They are just as lonely as you.

Stop being held captive by bad people, and difficult circumstances. You won’t change them, so change you.

Try something new. Dare to expand your horizons.

Make a new friend. Work at making their life better.

Pay attention to your surroundings. Enjoy the sounds God provides in nature.

Know that there are still people who need what you have to offer. Find them.

Perhaps a new mantra should come from Tim McGraw’s song entitled, Live Like You Were Dying.

Live Like You Were Dying, Tim McGraw

Live Like You Are Dying

"Therefore be careful how you walk, not as unwise men but as wise, making the most of your time, because the days are evil. So then do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is."

Ephesians 5:15-17

Why They Don't Know

           It is hard to determine why it took so long, but I finally realized an important principle about having a disability that is not easily detected by others. Those of us with invisible disabilities know what it is like for people to overlook, minimize, or even doubt that we struggle with a legitimate disability. After all, “You look fine” is the reason for all of the confusion.

            There are two ways we can approach our disability. We make it visible all of the time by making it a primary part of our conversations, and by acting the part. Or, we only talk about it when we have to, and we try to look as normal as possible. I am one of those in the later category.

            I don’t want my issues to be the topic of constant discussion. I want to live my life as well as I can, and try things I know I shouldn’t do. It is a part of who I am and I pay a painful price for doing those things. I get tired of constantly explaining why I must be excluded from activities, or I don’t feel good today, or I need to rest, and recharge my battery (literally, I have to recharge the machine implanted just above my hip twice a week).

            It is not a matter of pride that I hide my disability as much as I do. I just don’t want to turn my issues into other people’s burden. I don’t want to put myself in the position of having people judge me, or think they can give me advice to instantly solve my problems. Then, there are the people who think they can match my issue with their own issues (which almost never stack up). Comparing Stones to pebbles rarely leads to a positive conversation, so I stop talking about my issues and spend my time sympathizing with theirs. People would rather talk about themselves anyway.

            So, here is the important principle that I have discovered. People are not very sensitive to my disability because for the most part, I don’t want them to be. Their responses are my own doing. I should not be bothered by how they respond. It is a byproduct of trying to look and act as normal as possible.

            It does bother me at times when people are not very sensitive. I can get discouraged like every other person with an invisible disability. But, I constantly try to put the whole thing into perspective. In fact, I try to be happy when people tell me that I look fine. It means that I am, in many important ways, “fine”. Their surprise means that I am having some success at being a “normal” person. It means that I have succeeded at not making my disability the main part of my identity. People who really know me understand, and are very generous with their support. To me, that is all that matters.

Here we go again!

"Here we go again!" Have you ever felt this way? It is almost like a car, when the water pump breaks, it is like a guarantee that the alternator is going to go out next. Or, when one part of your body fails, you know that another  part will follow. Let me give an even better example (a personal  one).

My back was injured at a young age, so I walked with a limp for many years. It got to the point where I needed back surgery. So, we did that, twice. When the back problems were solved, tremendous knee pain began. Turns out, during the period where I limped, my right knee was destroyed. A knee replacement was the only way to solve the problem. When that was solved, (I am sure you can figure this one out) my left knee, which had been supporting most of my weight throughout my life, began to hurt. Now, I am poised for my second knee (Next week in fact|).

The human body has a tremendous capacity to heal itself, but when joints are worn, that is a different story. Fortunately, the body will envelop the cold cobalt metal, and heal itself, leaving only a scar of what once was an issue.

Those of us with disabilities can either look at the deterioration, or the restoration. We can wait for the next part to fall apart, or we can relish in the healing process and the periods in between the problems.  The recovery period for a knee replacement is longer that we would like, but while we are focusing on the pain and the limitations, our body is hard at work adapting to the new reality.

Perhaps we can learn from our own DNA. It does not get depressed over what may come next. It just spits, and reproduces itself, until everything that can be restored, is restored. DNA does not sit around waiting for something else to go wrong. Your body goes back to doing what it normally does, replacing skin cells, cleaning the blood stream of bad things, providing oxygen to the brain, things like that.

The truth is, we need the help of others to remind us to be like DNA. Things will repair as well as possible, and we will have a new reality. The reason we need the help of others is that looking at the present is easy. Dwelling on the past doesn't help our present either. But, when we are carving out our own rut, we can see where we are, and where we have been, but we can't see where we are going. That is where others come in. They can see the future a lot better than the person in the rut can. They are on the surface and can see in all directions. They have the ability to lift you out of the rut and help set you on a new course.

So, here is a request. Remind me of what I just said over the next few months. Be my friend and help me be like my own DNA. Respond to this blog, email me. Google me, FaceBook me, talk to me on Linkedin, and remind me that it is going to get better. I need to focus on the healing process and look forward with anticipation to a new reality. Help me see it when I am down.

Reinventing Myself Every Day

 

   Perhaps you are a lot like me. I have to reinvent myself every singly day. This is because I feel different pretty much every day. Nerve pain changes, or my stimulator implant doesn't work as well on a particular day, the knee that hasn't been replaced yet goes on the blink, or some other issue creeps up, and today is different than it was yesterday. I can understand why people don't know what to expect out of me because I don't know what to expect out of myself either.
     The Apostle Paul, in the Bible makes a statement that I must live by, when he declares that he sets aside what lies behind and presses forward toward the prize. The days of preaching are gone, and the days of singing have passed. The days of representing a Christian college vanished a long time ago and more recently so did the days of public school teaching. Who I was yesterday is not who I am today. Who I am today is not anywhere close to the person I will be tomorrow.
     If I spend all of my days trying to relive what I used to be, I will miss the things I still can be. One thing that is certain, I am considered permanently disabled. That being said, I can now begin to reinvent a whole new me that works within those disabilities. In the past few years I have become a writer, author, blogger, independent publisher, cook, and the best house husband I can be. I stay home most of the time, moving from my desk to my recliner. My circumstances have little to do with what I have to say, or how I can still have influence. As long as I have ideas, I will continue to write.
     I am sure there will be no end to the things people say about me, and while those opinions may affect me for a time, it is what God says about me that is really important. Because of this, I will continue to reinvent myself so that I might have the opportunity to impact a few. If that happens, then what more could anyone ask?

I Have Never Felt So Disabled

It was a delightful experience, taking my wife to the theater to enjoy a terrific musical.  The seats were near the front to get the most of the experience. I purchased seats on the aisle to be able to extend my legs to keep them limber. Though the seats did not fit my back, I was determined to make the most of it. Then, intermission came...

No matter how hard I tried, I could not get up. People wanted out of the aisle to go to the bathrooms and purchase more refreshments. They jammed together as they waited for me to get out of the way, but it wasn't happening. My wife had to climb over the top of me, and pull from the isle way.  Even that took considerable effort to get me unfolded from the shape of the seat. When she finally pulled me free, my legs would not hold me up, buckling with every attempt to move out of the way.

In all honesty, there was not one complaint from those trying to get out of the row.  They could see how much difficulty I was having, and though I was keeping them from their desired freedom, they were very kind. My wife was so encouraging and supportive.  She held me up, and waited patiently for my legs to hold me up. No, the frustration was only with me.

I have struggled with recovery from surgeries, and bore the pain of doing more than my surgically repaired body could handle.  All of those things were expected and approached them with a good attitude.  This was different. I was at the theater, and couldn't do what healthy people could do. I could not explain away what I was experiencing. Suddenly the word "disabled" felt so real.

I am no different than any other person with disabilities. We would rather ignore reality, adapt to what is happening, and move on. But, there are those times when we cannot pretend. At those times you know exactly what I was feeling at the time.  I have never felt so disabled. I wished I had Mary Poppins Umbrella and could just fly.

Everybody Has Down Days

     Everybody has down days.  You have probably heard this phrase all of your life.  But for many with disabilities, the saying feels a little different.  We look forward to the up days.  They are the days when pain has subsided, and we are capable of accomplishing a few things we used to be able to accomplish without thought.

     I have remodeled houses, gutted large portions of buildings and started over, moved walls, done serious landscaping, and built buildings, all while working a full time job. Today I have spend nearly three hours trying to dismantle a leaking bench in the shower. I have succeeded at making a mess, but I do not have the strength to pry off the soggy boards. A good day would be nice.

     I know that I am not alone with this type of frustration. What I am describing is nothing new to you. Yet, when I am just sitting, my mind still believes that I can do these things. My frustration is a product of my own memory.  

     Most posts are general lessons about living with disabilities. I try to be positive and educational.  Today, I just need comfort, and a reminder that I will have some good days ahead.  Anybody?

I'd Rather Be Hopeful than Hopeless

It has been six weeks since the neuro-stimulation implant procedure. People have been telling me that it will give me a whole new life. "How do you feel" they ask? I feel like me, with swelling in my back, and two new scars. I knew that I would not be able to judge any difference until I passed my mandatory recovery period, and I could take my back for a test drive.

Well over the weekend, I got out with my wife, and my sister, and worked on a project in the back yard.  I should say that they worked on the project and I mostly coached.  All I did was make a few cuts with a circular saw, then sat and watched as they did the heavy work.  The end result is that the project is finished and beautiful.  I, on the other hand, am in pain.

Here is what I have learned from my weekend.

First and foremost, I have learned that people with disabilities are truly blessed when they have family who are supportive and will do anything to help. No complaints, no criticism, no questions, just loving support and encouragement. I could not ask for a better support system than I have around me. It occurs to me that I have a choice to be blessed by their love, or be depressed that I can't do something.  I chose to be blessed.

Secondly, medical procedures may help you cope with your disability, but there is rarely a magic bullet.  Does the procedure help? Ultimately, yes. Is it perfect? No.  Again, I have a choice: be bitter at the medical profession, frustrated at my lot in life, and angry that nothing seems to cure the problem, or happy for the relief I did get, grateful that I have a good life (in spite of the problems), and content with what I am able to do. I chose happiness, gratitude, and contentment.

Thirdly, I have come to realize that my disability is a permanent reality. I am not going to wake up one day and have it all become a distant memory. I cannot afford to dwell on it, complain about it, or expect everybody to understand my issues. I don't need to worry about those who criticize, misunderstand, and sneer in public because they do not understand my disability.  The burden I carry is heavy enough without piling their opinion on my back too.  I chose to make the best of my life, within the limitations that have been set for me.

Finally, I know that a large part of coping with my disability is my own attitude toward it. If I am hopeless, how long with my family continue their unwavering support? If I am bitter, how many doctors will continue to search for acceptable treatments?  If I am hopeless then what will be the quality of the life I still have control over?  I will have down days, but my attitude will help determine how many of those down days I will have.


I remember visiting an older friend in the hospital.  His diabetes was so bad that they eventually had to amputate his feet.  His family was concerned about his attitude when he came out of the anesthesia, so they asked me to go in first.  I will never forget what happened when he woke up.  He looked down the bed, and say, "Wow, isn't that wonderful.  I can lay flat in bed, and my feet don't mess up the covers anymore."  I want his attitude, and that will happen only when I commit to being hopeful and not helpless.

You, of all People, Shouldn't Judge Me

So, here we were, at the airport ready to board a plane. I had just been through a spinal neurostimulator implant. I was wearing a back brace because the surgeon told me that I needed it for a while. In my hand was an early boarding pass because I needed a certain seat on the plane.

Just before boarding began, a woman pushed herself in front of me, saying that she needed to board before me, because she had a bigger need than me. "Believe me, a little back brace is nothing compared to what I have. You wouldn't want to be me" was her exact statement. After a little banter she agreed that my condition was a little more than a back brace, but she committed to remain in front of me in line.

I was struck by the prejudice people with disabilities face on a regular basis. We are judged by how we look on the outside, and the possibility of hidden disability is dismissed as unimportant. But, I was dumbfounded by the insensitivity of this woman with a hidden disability of her own. She wanted to engage in a "pissing" contest over who's hidden disability was worse. Unbelievable!

If you have a hidden disability, you know what I am talking about, and I am certain that you have stories of your own. To you I offer this statement. I respect you, and all of your struggles. I do not need to compare notes and prove that I am better off, or worse off, than you. It is not about degree's of difficulty, but about mutual support. You struggle with your disability everyday, and you don't need to be judged by others who live under the same scrutiny.

Do you have a story where you have been unfairly judged?  Share you story with others.  Write a comment, and share your story with others.  Le't see how widespread this problem is.

Disability's Funnel Effect

Those who have been placed on disability sometime in their adulthood experience what I have come to call the funnel effect. Understanding it helps the person with disabilities to understand what is happening with they are in the smallest part of the funnel. Here is how it works.

When you were healthy, you had a fairly large group of friends. They may center around sports, or other activities. Your friends come through the things your children are involved with. Church, civic organizations, charity cause, and neighborhood gatherings add to the opportunity to develop friendships. You may have done all of these things when you were healthy, and your list of friends and acquaintances was very broad.

When you became disabled, activities began to go by the wayside. Friends are not sure what to do for you. The activities continue, so their focus goes with those continued activities. Your absence is replaced by someone new. You can no longer play the active games you were involved with, so that group of friends slowly moves on. they want to be your friend, but they were friends for a reason, and sports were the reason. With these changes you slide down the funnel.

Other friends continue to love you for a while. These would be friends for a season. They support you, and try to include you in activities. They think about how to alter activities so that you can be involved. They are very supportive and you value their efforts. Unfortunately, whether you are struggling with a disability or you are completely healthy, seasons change. Someone moves away, the sports season ends, your kids graduate from high school, your job ends. All these mark the changing of a season, and the friends you had through those activities also drift away. With the changing of the season your friendships are becoming more and more limited. Friendships are replaced by loneliness, confusion, and maybe even depression as you reach the narrowest part of the funnel.

Fortunately there is another group of friends. These are your friends for all time. They love you and stick with you no matter what life changes you go through. Your disability does not affect their love for you. Friends for all time don't skip a beat when it comes to the changes you have gone through. Unfortunately, the number of friends for all time come in small numbers. This is normal no matter who you are. Many people are lucky to have three to five friends in this category.

The effect of being squeezed down the funnel is a feeling of isolation and frustration. If you are in the narrowest part of the funnel, take heart, a new season is approaching. With a new season comes as your focus changes. You join a new organization that fits your new lifestyle. You find people who have similar experiences and they become your friend in your new season of life. Fortunately, you are now through the toughest part of the funnel, and you are beginning to feel like a new person.

As you get through the physical and emotional struggles of your disability and become more comfortable with what you can still do, you find new activities. These activities are more fitted to your new life. New activities mean you have new reasons for developing friendships. You have made it through the funnel, and you have a new sense of normal.

How long does it take to make it through the funnel? The answer to that question lies with you. How willing are you to work your way through it? How long do you want to remain squeezed in that period of frustration? Perhaps understanding disability's funnel effect will help the process move quicker. Working with the natural effects of the funnel gives a new perspective of the process. If you are being squeezed, take heart new seasons are approaching. You will find new activities and thereby discover new reasons for friends. Your future may be different, but with a little effort it can be as rewarding as the life you used to live before becoming disabled.

No More Than I Can Handle?

The Bible says that God will not let us have more than we can handle. Well all I have to say is that God must think I am very strong. If you read my last post then you are aware that on top of a knee replacement, I have had a new outbreak of shingles that comes from my lower spine and radiates down my legs.

Well, within hours of visiting the doctor to get the anti-viral medicine to fight off the shingles, I started experience severe pain in my stomach. I will spare you with all of the details of what happened between 9:00 PM and 1:00AM, but suffice to say that I ended up in the hospital, and put on the surgery list. By Saturday morning a severely infected and enlarged Gall Bladder had been removed. If that wasn't enough I was put into isolation because the hospital didn't want my shingles to spread to other patients.

The whole time I was in the hospital I found myself shaking my head in disbelief. How is it possible for all this to happen all at once? What are people going to think and say when they read the next chapter in my health? This is ridiculous.

I found myself faced with a choice. I could play the why me game, or I could rejoice in my circumstances. I chose to rejoice. God must think that I am very strong. He sees a lot more power in me than I see in myself. I want to see myself that way. I would rather claim another promise of the Bible, I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Hidden Giants

Today, I sat in the pharmacy department of my local drug store. People were coming and going as the staff were giving shots to prevent shingles. As I sat, an employee asked if I was planning to get the shot as well. Unfortunately, the shot would do me no good. The truth is that I was at the pharmacy for a course of heavy antibiotics because my shingles has returned.

My first bought with shingles came several years ago. A few painful spots on my lower back lasted about three months. When they healed, I thought I was finished with Shingles. Not true. The shingles settled in my lower spine. They returned with a vengeance following my second back surgery. This time with only one prominent spot. All of the rest went down through the nerves in my legs. The pain was debilitating, and very difficult to fight off. It took several months of antibiotics to fight off the Shingles.

Six weeks ago I had knee replacement surgery. This, along with some adjustments in medicines, brought the ugly monster back to life. So, there i was sitting in the pharmacy, waiting for my antibiotics while happy healthy people came for their shot to insure that they won't get what I have been suffering with for years. If I had the choice, I would take the shot too. But, I don't have the choice. Debilitating nerve pain is just one more giant I must fight.

The Power of Love

Pain is a relative term. We can give in to it, and let it consume us. When we do, pain can hurt even worse that it should. Those who give in are rarely seen, unless it is at the doctors office. I don't want to sound critical of the power that pain can have. I have had my share, and I know how difficult it can be to work through. But this week, I discovered another force that can even influence pain. It is the power of love and friendship. After six weeks of being in recovery mode following knee replacement surgery, I had the privilege of officiating at the wedding of some great friends. I was committed to not drawing attention to myself and my problems, so I decided to leave the cane in the car. The wedding went well, and I didn't even miss the cane. At the reception I even managed a slow dance with my daughter. It hurt, but not nearly as bad as I anticipated. Pain was not the focus. Friends and celebration was the focus of the day. In the end it very well. Looking back on the event, I am reminded that love really does conquer all. The pain doesn't go away when you invest yourself in others, but it certainly becomes more tolerable when it isn't the focus of your attention So, who can you do to invest yourself in others? How can you turn your focus outward toward friendships? Get out of the house, find something to do. It won't kill you, and may must make your life better.

Sometimes Pain Does Bring Gain

I am no rookie to physical therapy. My insurance company has been cooperative after every of my surgeries. Each PT had a slightly different approach to their practice, but each did a very good job to make me feel better. Since having my knee replaced, I am in therapy once again. It took a while to get this round of PT started, because I ended up with an allergic reaction to tape, which led to an infection that set me back a couple of weeks. When I finally did begin my rehabilitation, the knee had lost a lot of its flexibility. I was twelve degrees from straight, and could barely bend to ninety degrees. In the first week we were able to stretch muscles and work scar tissue so that my knee would bend to one hundred-eight degrees. All of this information has been given to help you appreciate what happened yesterday. I was in the front yard trying move something. It wasn't a difficult task but that didn't matter. All of the sudden, a sound similar to the tearing of velcro rang from my knee followed by horrible pain. Within minutes a large red circle appeared at the bottom of my knee. The Velcro sound was scar tissue giving way. At today's appointment the PT measured my flexibility. We were all amazed to find that I could now bend my knee to one hundred-twenty degrees. What made the difference? Where did the extra twelve degrees come from? It came from the tearing of scar tissue. The pain was necessary and, therefore, worth it. Sometimes pain does bring gain.

The Temporary Fix

Donuts are my drug of choice. It may sound silly, but it is true. When I am struggling, I find a donut shop and buy the biggest cinnamon Roll, and one of those custard filled donuts with chocolate on top. Add that to a cup of coffee and you have my fix. Sure it is legal, and it sounds a little silly, but the reality is that I run to my drug of choice just as fast as others run to drugs, or alcohol.

You can imagine my excitement, then, when a donut pizza was hand delivered by my daughter. She purchased it in San Jose, and carried it on a plane to Southern California for me. Believe me, I ate my share, but just after it arrived, I got a lot of attention from the nursing staff on the orthopedic ward.

Here is the reality check. Your drug of choice, like mine, will leave you emotionally empty. Emotional health needs more than substances, or a quick fix. Emotional health demands that we are open and vulnerable with people who care. We must have a support system to get through our emotional lows. And, we need a solid source of strength that is beyond ourselves.

For me, that solid source of strength is found in Jesus Christ, and my support system comes from fellow believers. I have the knowledge and the hope that this dysfunctional body in which I live will be replaced by a heavenly body that works perfectly. Yet, even with this knowledge, I get discouraged. Pain messes with the mind. That is where fellow believers come in. They care about me. They listen, pray, encourage, and support me through the lows of disability.

What is your source of strength? What do you run to when discouragement takes over your mind? Several years ago I had the privilege of baptizing nine people from the Cerebral Palsy center in Seattle, Washington. All had advanced levels of CP, and lived at the center. The change we witnessed in those nine people was amazing. They had a new hope of eternal life. They had a new support system, and they had renewed hope that carried them through their low times.
I tell you this, partially because I am going through a time of discouragement, and I needed to remember my friends with CP. But I am also hoping that you will look at your source of strength. Does it measure up to what those nine people found?

Here Is Something They Got Right

Two weeks ago, I traveled from Colorado back to California for a total knee replacement surgery. The surgery had been scheduled before we moved, so we decided to keep the schedule in place. My surgeon did a wonderful job, and my initial recovery was spent in Bakersfield with my daughter.
On Wednesday, the surgeon took the staples out of my knee, and I prepared for my trip back to Colorado. I will admit that I was fearful of the trip. There are so many horror stories about traveling with disabilities. But, I must say my trip an amazing experience.
The experience began as we pulled up to the curb at Orange County, John Wayne Airport. Frontier employees ordered a wheel chair, which met me at the curb. The young man who helped me made sure that my bags were checked, and that I had my seating taken care of. The ticket agent decided that I needed a better seat, and moved me to the very front of the plane where I could extend my leg out into the galley.
From there, the young man took me to the security checkpoint. He was gracious and gentle, removing my shoes for me, and made sure that all metal was removed. He sent three containers through the machine then secured them on the other side. Then, he came back and escorted me into the physical screening area. The TSA agent was very supportive, and kind. He went overboard to insure that I was comfortable with what he was doing.
The young man, put my shoes back on, helped put my stuff back together, and delivered me to the gate. Before he left, he made sure that I had everything I needed and that I was comfortable waiting for my plane.
When I arrived in Denver, a wheelchair was waiting for me. I was wheeled to the gate, where another employee put me on an electric cart. From there I was driven to the edge of the security checkpoint, where a terrific young lady was waiting with yet another wheel chair. She took me to the baggage claim, retrieved my bags, and pushed me plus two bags to the arrival area where I could be picked up.
She stayed with me until the car arrived, and the luggage was placed in the car. She was not satisfied with letting me try to walk to the car. She rolled me to the right up to the car door and made sure I was secure in my seat.
I was so impressed with her caring attention toward me. In my mind, she deserved a good tip, as did the other two employees who helped me from the plane. When I tried to give a tip, she refused it say that she was not allowed to take tips, and that she was just happy for the opportunity to help me.
My experience at both ends of the trip were great, but I honestly want to commend Frontier Airlines for being so supportive, and helpful. They knew how much I had been through, and it almost felt like I became their singular focus throughout the trip. When a company gets it right, they deserve to be noticed. Frontier got it right.

Setbacks

I have been recovering from a total knee replacement for nearly two weeks. Daily improvement has been both noticeable, and satisfactory. Last night, however, I feel like I have had a setback. Leg pain increased, and sleeping was difficult because it was hard to get comfortable.

My son is a land surveyor. Through him, I have realized that a setback has a purpose. Setbacks on a piece of land help to insure that a building does not encroach neighboring property. It insures that all properties are evenly spaced, and that buildings are located in safe areas.

So, can I learn anything about my setback by understanding the meaning on a setback in real estate? While I may think my progress was satisfactory, there must have been a place where the new knee is encroaching on an older problem. The setback allows old wounds to catch up with the new knee. The setback helps to insure that all areas are healing together, and that there are no encroachments to the healing process, which may cause complications later.

So a setback can actually be a good thing in the process of recovery. I cannot be discouraged by the occasional setback. I must trust that my body has a purpose in slowing down (and maybe even taking a step backward). When all is said and done, I want know that all parts of my leg are healing correctly with no hidden problems. I want to go to the doctor and be released for the next stage of recovery.

Life In The Slow Lane

I am learning that I have joined a new crowd. For the sake of a better term, I am calling it “The Slow Lane Crowd.” This doesn’t have anything to do with the lane I use on the freeway, but the way I must approach life. I have lived a pretty fast paced life with school, and ministry, and writing, and family responsibilities. People used to look at my activity level and ask how I did it all?

My new lifestyle is highlighted by knee replacements, spine surgeries, arthritis, sorting out night-time medication from day-time medication, naps, and waiting for others to do what I can no longer do for myself. I have hit the slow lane with my brakes overheated. I am barely moving, and I still feel like I need one of those run away truck ramps to slow me even further.

I find myself in the position that every generation inevitably joins. It is the period where I find myself quoting my mother. “You go ahead, I’ll be fine.” “Have you seen my cane?” “Do whatever you need to do, I’ll just sit here.” “Let me know when you need me to move.” I understand how she must feel using those phrases all of the time. I wish I could go, but as my grand father used to say, “My get up and go, done got up and went.”

As a new member of the slow lane crowd, I’m practicing slow lane etiquette, but I am not quite there yet. So I struggle, and get frustrated when things don’t work out the way I expect. But I am working at getting to know the members of my new society. I am shocked at how many faint scars I see across the knees of other slow laner’s.

Non Verbal Cues

I am sure you have figured out that I had knee replacement last week. Starting to feel like I am coming out from under the fog of drugs that accompanied such a surgery. I did not post anything over the last several days, because I was afraid of sounding incoherent, which I likely would have done. However, I accompanied my son-in-law to the store yesterday. We parked in the appropriate blue stall, and showed my parking permit. My daughter brought my walker around, and I climbed out, knee bandaged, and hobbled into the store.

In the past, my parking experiences have not always been positive. Today, however, I was met with kindness and support. A gentleman held the door open for a very long time while I approached. An employee was very supportive in setting me up with an electric cart to use in the store.

The difference between this experience and those of the past were the non verbal cues that helped other recognize my condition. Obviously my limp was much more pronounced, and I looked like I had been through a lot. But the cue's were the deciding factor between a positive and a negative experience.

There may be a day when I must use an adaptive device to get around. But until that day comes, I will suffer the occasional slights from those who are doing their job to keep society honest. Their efforts are keeping the adaptive carts and spaces available for those who need them now.

Service With A Tail Wag

This week, while in the hospital, I was visited by a super hero. Not a fake one, dressed in a nearly perfect costume. My hero was a calm, unassuming service dog named Gordon.

Gordon is a five-year-old Cairn Terrier. He has been a certified therapy dog for nearly three years. He visits hospitals every week and has made more than 250 hospital visits. In the past year alone he has visited with more than 1,200 patients at St. Joseph Hospital.

The amazing thing about Gordon, is that he has no ego about his 1,200 patient visits. The encounter was not about him, but about me. He hopped up on my bed and started licking my hand, just the way my Jazzy does at home. He snuggled, just the way my Major does at home, and then he draped his chin across my arm, the way my Satchmo does. How did he know? I have no idea, but he seemed to sense my needs and went about filling them in a way that brought me comfort.

Gordon was the first service dog to visit me in the hospital. I hope that he is not the last. People want to know details of your condition. A service dog wants to know the details of your heart. They don’t care that you have been through surgery, or that you have a physical handicap. They just shower you with love in the way you need to be loved.

Thank you Gordon for visiting me in the hospital. Your encouragement made the pain a little more bearable. You made me want to see if one of my dogs would qualify for the service industry.

Here Comes The TSA

It finally happened. I was standing in the security line at the airport, and I was “randomly” pulled out to go through the body scan machine. I have worried about this machine, and how all of the metal in my back might look. I was not anxious to explain my disability to a perfect stranger, even if it was a government agent.

“Sir, I am going to have to ask you to stand over here for additional screening.” I knew it was just a matter of time, but my heart sank nonetheless. The machine whipped around me scanning the inside of my body. When it was finished, the TSA agent began talking into the walkie-talkie mouthpiece attached to his shoulder.

The TSA agent moved me even farther from the crowd and made me stand still. Certainly they saw the three pounds of metal in my back. I had visions of strip searches, and humiliation. I thought about pleading my disability in hopes of being left alone, but the words did not come out in time.

As I began to explain my circumstances, the TSA agent stopped me. “Sir, do you have anything in your left front pocket?” What? Left front pocket? I thought about it and said, no all of my metal and coins are in the basket that went through the machine. But wait, there was something in my pocket. Asking permission to move, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a piece of candy, a root beer barrel.

Here I was ready to cry foul, to complain about be harassed because of my disability, when all I was accused of was having a piece of candy in my pocket. Just because my disability is always on my mind, doesn’t mean that my disability is on everyone else’s mind. Sometimes people are just doing their job. Don’t be so quick to defend yourself. You may just have a root beer barrel in your pocket.