Have you watched the commercial where the gal wants a purse using money her insurance has saved her and she shouts, "Insurance, come find me money!" and this old guy in fishing gear appears, dangling a dollar in front of her? "I got you a dollar," he says. She tries to grab it and he yanks it away from her and says, "Oops! You gotta be quicker than that!"
That's how I feel with my health right about now.
I shout, "Give me health! I need to get back to work!"
And for a moment, a glimmer of hope appears, just like that dollar. I'll feel better for a few hours and think, okay, it's getting better. Maybe I can go to work tomorrow.
I'll reach for that hope. Then, just like the old insurance agent, that hope is cruelly snatched away a few hours later when the pain pills wear off, or when I wake up the next morning cringing in pain.
It's getting old.
I can't believe it's been two months since I had surgery and since all of this started. I'm now going to physical therapy three times a week and I won't lie - it hurts. We are trying to break down the scar tissue and adhesions in my abdomen from past surgeries. But getting to that point is very painful.
Nevertheless, I know hope will continue to be there, dangling, and I will continue to reach for it. It might decide to keep out of my grasp for awhile, but one of these days I'm going to catch it and darn it, be well enough to get back to some kind of a normal life.
I will continue to believe. I can do no less.