Remembering a Walk at Christmas

So if you've been reading my blog or catching up on all the old stories, you recall that we lived in this large home in Germany at the time because my husband was stationed in Mannheim for the greatest 3 years of our lives. And, his parents were visiting us very shortly after my first surgery for Kienbock's. You may also recall that I took very few drugs to help with the pain - largely in part because I hate medicine, but also largely in part because I didn't need it. It did nothing to stop the pain.

I do recall a particular evening just before Christmas. We had spent part of the afternoon walking through our village, and up the mountainside to where the vineyards were so J&S could see the spectacular view we had of the Rhein-Neckar valley. Seriously, spectacular. We could see miles out on good days, and every day we could see Mannheim which was 12 kilometers away. It was a little cloudy, and it had been snowing. We took the dog with us, all bundled up in his sweater. But, he finally started shivering after an hour or so, so we trekked back down and decided to go to the church next door to our home.

To be honest, we had never been inside the church. Mostly, because there was always something going on. Concerts, weddings, funerals, services, it was like a convention center for our village. Anyway, we went down into the church courtyard, and I recall looking at our home from a very different angle. I'd always seen it from our perspective, but from next door I recall thinking "No wonder why all those people keep coming and looking in our windows!"

The church is a catholic church, and inside it was largely lit by candles. There is a black Madonna altar which is said to perform miracles. In fact, the walls of the church were encased with stories and pictures and prayers from locals who had received or were asking for miracles to be performed by the black Madonna. I'm never one to squelch people's stories about religious artifacts - partially because as a human being with a belief in greater things, I too would love to believe that the reason someone didn't die in a car crash was because Christ's mother was watching out for them.

My father-in-law and husband took turns waiting with the dog outside the church so that J&S could have the time to look around as well. We weren't there very long because of our freezing puppy, so we went back to the house where we had hot chocolate and cider. I remember we played a few games, one of which was Blokkus. My father-in-law got the gist of the game after the first round, and decided he'd block everyone early on in the game. It was difficult maneuvering around him, but we managed. And, it turns out he lost very badly. To this day we give him crap about playing Blokkus.

I remember though, that day, my husband convinced me to take some medicine. I can't remember if it was Percocet or hydrocodone ... but I was high as a kite for a few hours on it. It sure didn't take care of my pain, but it improved my mood. It improved my mood so much in fact that we have photographic evidence. At that time in my life, I wasn't too keen on photos. Normally, I like having my picture taken by my husband - not so much by other people, but he manages to capture good moments that I like to remember.

This being one of the few times I ever willingly took medicine outside a hospital to help with the pain, I became a bigger believer in strength of mind. I have other injuries where occasionally medicine helps. For example with bursitis pain, taking some ibuprofen helps alleviate symptoms and inability to keep still. But nothing, I repeat, nothing, gets rid of Kienbock's pain. It's there and you have to live with it every second. I've uncovered ways to ignore it or mask it, but for years I've lived with the pain as if it were part of me and who I am.

Essentially, I own Kienbock's disease. I let it help define me. If I didn't, I'd live a miserable existence. It's like people who are in wheelchairs accepting help. If you don't accept help, how do you expect to get through life happy, and well? You won't. You might not be able to reach for something, but that makes you no less dignified and no less human. We all have hurdles in life. Owning them and dealing with them is the only way to ever get around them. Refusing to will make you unpleasant, and worthless. Simple things like taking walks and playing games helped me overcome the fear and incapacitation of the pain. Being with a husband who has supported me in the best way he knows how has also helped. Relinquishing control will gain you control - if that makes sense to you in some messed up way. Life is all about obstacles. You can either accept them and your reactions to them, or you can drown in them. I choose to accept them.