My foot’s been bothering me. My stroke foot. “Stumpy” we used to call it for several months after my stroke. It’s been 3 years and going-on-8 months. And it still doesn’t work right. A lot of strokies have trouble with parts of their stroke limbs locking up.
There’s never a time it doesn’t hurt, just times it hurts less. And other times when I’m not focusing on it so much.
Am I resigned to it? No. I hate it and I don’t want it any more. (The pain, not my foot. Lol). It makes me frustrated. Sometimes it makes me cry. There’s nothing in me that wants to be lame. Nothing in me that wants the constant pain.
Yes, I could go to the doctors. Yes, they could give me pain meds. Yes, I could probably get cortisone shots. Yes, I could probably get surgery. But do you know how many people do that ..and nothing gets better..?
But, it’s more than that for me. I refuse to put my faith in those things. Those things and those people aren’t who I’m looking to. Even if I ever would choose those avenues (and I’m not ruling anything out), they’re not WHO I’m looking to. And I will not trust in them.
The woman with the issue of blood in the Bible keeps going through my head. She went to doctor after doctor and spent all her money chasing “the cure”. Chasing the hope of relief. For what? For nothing. She spent all her money and… no cure, no relief.
Honestly, I’m afraid of being that person. Of spending all our money and hope on people and treatments. ..for nothing.
In the end, her touching Christ was the cure. And her story of that has helped thousands since. Jesus may or may not choose to heal my foot, but my touch with him in the pain IS my healing. Every day.
Chronic pain stinks. But, it forces me deeper into him. And it also gives me a greater sense of compassion for others in their pain and their tragedies. And it stretches me to experiment and find new ways to cope that have the potential to help others.
It stinks, but it’s not wasted….
