Sharing stories

First, I'll mention that we had a little storm yestarday but nothing serious. It brought a cold front with it, and today the high might be 50 degrees. Which brings me to the topic of my post today. Because the weather has turned cold all of the sudden, my foot hurts.
I've been able to look through my past and I've discovered that God allows some physical pain when I'm going to be coming up against some emotional pain. Perhaps, its to take the sting out of one or the other. When I was a little kid and would scrape my knee or something, my Grandpa always said, "you want me to stomp on your foot so your knee will stop hurtn". Its kind of like that I think. For example, the day before my Grandma died I came down with possibly the worst flue I've ever had.
Anyway, back to why my foot hurts today. November 12, 2003 I broke my foot. A few monthes before it was discovered that I had cysts on my ovaries. I tracked down a doctor that was willing to do surgery to remove them. That day was my pre-op appointment. My mom and I were walking from our parking spot to the front of the hospital, when I stepped down from a curb and whatever happened-happened. I honestly don't know if I slipped or tripped, if I stepped wrong or fell over. It happened so fast, I never could honestly say. At any rate, I was hurt. My mom is usually the calm one. She was practically a single parent when we were growing up. She had been a party to nearly every tradgic event from asthma attacks to choking. But, this particular day was already stressful because of my upcoming surgery. Needless to say she was not herself. Her first reaction was, "get up and walk it off". This what she had said to my brother many times during some sporting event or another. So I attempted to take her advise, quickly realizing that I couldn't stand. Thats when she started repeating, "Oh no, Oh great!". Thankfully, I had the forsight to take my shoe and sock off almost imediately. Apperently they would've had to cut them off of me. My foot swelled up, my toes looked like little balloons. And as you can imagine I was crying. It hurt.........a lot! Near by a EMT was climbing out of an ambulance. I guess he figured we looked like we needed some help and came over. The guy wasn't much bigger than me (FYI-I'm short). But, he managed to pick me up and carry me the few feet into the ER. Now this is where things sort of become muddled for me. There was a lot of people running around, the EMT was talking to me to try and keep my mind of the pain, and my mother had started talking to this woman whom apparently delt with the hospitals public relations. I do not know what was said. However, my mother says that the woman volunteered that the hospital had coverage that would take care of "everything". As a little side note, their insurance did not agree. Anyway, soon a nurse came and gave me a shot of something that I completely enjoyed. Then I was taken away for X-rays. That was fun. They wanted me to move my foot in ways that I never had before, broken bone or not. When the results came back that I did indeed have a broken bone, they sent me off to an Orthopedic doctor. There, they took their own x-rays (before it was all said and done I should've been glowing). Thankfully, they decided not to put me in a cast, but instead they gave me a boot. It strapped up with velcro and there was a little button that you pump and the bottom and sides would inflate. It was tight and kept my foot as stabel and motionless as a cast, except I could take this off to shower. The bone that I broke was somewhere between my little toe and my ankle. I would have to keep my foot elevated, and I had to stay off of it. I got crutches, although I never did learn to use them well. Thats a lot harder than it looks. They gave me pain pills (vicodine) and sent me home. Early the next morning I had my surgery inspite of my injury. What resulted from the surgery is a whole nother story left for another post. In short, that was the day I found out I was infertile. So, you see I had much more than just foot pain to deal with in the coming weeks. Because I had abdominal surgery I couldn't use the crutches at first, because it hurt. So, I was given a wheel chair which I got used to. I stayed with my parents for a few weeks. I don't remember much. Some of it was the vicodine, some of it was the darkness. Then I went home. My husband was working nights at the time, 10 hour shifts. I needed the wheel chair for the time that I would have to be at home alone. I couldn't crutch around and for example hold a plate of food too. I learned alot about letting people help me. I remember the first day after surgery and everything my mother gave me my bath. As a grown married woman, thats humbeling. My husband shaved my leggs one time. My brother came over a lot to stay with me when my husband was gone. He was still just a teenager, and should've been out having fun, but he helped me a lot. My dad carried me around every chance he got. I think my being laid up was as much of a blessing for them, as I came to realize later it was for me. I was down for 6 weeks. I walked with a limp for 2 weeks until I got into rehab. I still run funny. Just ask my hubby I look like a lame duck. I have a bump were my brake healed and formed scar tissue. And then there are cold days when it aches, like today. These are little reminders to help me remember a time when God tried my faith. He put me to the test. I'ld like to say I passed right away. But, then I already mentioned the darkness. Maybe thats also another post. I learned so much from that experiance. God is always with me, even if I'm blinded from Him for a time. That reminds me of a part in the last Narnia book I read. Lucy could see Aslan, but the other children couldn't. Eventually as they began to trust him, they started to see him again. Sometimes, God makes us uncomfortable to get us to trust Him.