I did it again. Or I didn't do it again. Another week of almost no training has passed, a week I cannot get back. Life is like that. You have one shot at a day, one at a week, one at a month, one at a life. When it is gone it is gone for good. Mostly. If we die in Christ, our works do follow us.
Monday I met John at the pool and swam 3,000 meters. The next day the shoulder was a gimpy and for that and some other reasons I was out of the water the rest of the week.
One reason I was out was illness. I had a sore throat and a low-grade fever for several days. Then John and Gerald and I went to an Alabama football game. I will tell you about that trip later. For now, lets chat about the shoulder.
Yes, I have been visiting a physician, an orthopedist, in case you were wondering. I thought about going back to see my cousins wife, the one who put my left arm back on after it fell off. I chose to stay local because I am working now and deep down I believed I was going to require surgery to fix this one. The whole thing has been a little frustrating. Forgive me, Lord for that lie. The whole thing has been driving-me-crazy frustrating. On the first trip, the doctor gave me steroid shots in both sides of my shoulder. Ouch! I was six weeks after the injury when I had that first appointment. I did learn something on that trip. I learned that my shoulder joint is basically in good shape meaning I have no obvious arthritis. He gave me the shots and told me to come back in three weeks.
Three weeks later, I was back and better but far from healed. He said come back in three weeks, that we were only three weeks in, and most likely it would completely heal. That is where my frustration began, a frustration I have felt before dealing with medical people. When I reminded him that we were nine weeks in (I injured the shoulder on June 26th) he argued with me. That made me angry. In the past, I have had doctors display this attitude: nothing is official until you enter their examination room. So for him it was three weeks but for me, for reality, it was nine weeks. That's a big difference when you are an athlete and are lounging around depressed and growing fat. Then he told me to come back in three weeks. Who woulda thunk it?
The second three-week comeback was yesterday, September 18th. Before hand, I did lots of praying. I asked God to guide his mind. If I needed an MRI, let him suggest that. If not, well God, You are the Great Physician. This visit was better, and this time I left not frustrated but hopeful. He at least pretended to listen to me and he didn't argue when I told him I was concerned to be twelve weeks in and not well. He mentioned two options: 1) MRI, and 2) something else. Something else was, "What I want to do," he said, "is shoot you again, order four weeks of physical therapy two times per week, and see you after that. If that doesn't do it, I can order the MRI."
I liked that. It sounded reasonable and restrained. And MRIs are expensive. I have only had one and it took a year to pay off what the insurance didn't cover. He went on to tell me that when shoulders make significant improvement, they usually go all the way and totally heal and yes he was trying to save an expensive MRI. So I was happy and hopeful and I took my physical therapy prescription and drove straight to Advanced Fitness to set up the first session with Trey Hodges, a PT who has worked with my mom so I have good feeling about him. I am happy now and am praying and trusting God to get me there.
That night, Monday, Penny and I went to an over 60s meeting at First Baptist in Itta Bena. We had a nice time and ate some good fish. After the meeting, which was mostly a social, I spoke with the pastor, Brother Harrington. He had mentioned diabetes and I told him it was an issue with me and I would be praying for him. I also told him about my swim and my shoulder. He prayed for me right then and there and I felt the Holy Spirit as strong as I ever have in any Pentecostal church. I left there determined to believe God that He would get me through this.
I am doing everything in my power to get it right because it is time to at least begin dreaming about Chicot Challenge VII. I apologize to You, God, for my lack of faith. But I needed some good news, a change of attitude, an upswing in my mood. I am there and by faith I will stay there. I will work like it depends on me and pray like it depends on You.
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