The Bomb that Made me a Believer … (The Come Back Story)

I wanted to dodge the rest of The Come Back story.

 You know, take a longer break than the 3 day weekend.

And then you wrote me.  You emailed me.  You DM'd me. 
You made me struggle inside of myself. 
Even though I'm not telling the whole story (My real life is like a made for TV mini series.  No … wait.  It's longer than a mini series.  We could have a movie of the week.  For several years.) you wanted to know where this was going …  What was next…

I love you for caring.  I love you for being that interested.  I had thought I might have put a few people to sleep by now and truly, the purpose of the #28DayChallenge was to pull ME out of a slump so I can fight my way through the next indicated step. 

But, there are days,
times,
clock ticking LOUD moments,
in a person's life
when even a fighter gets tired
of the fight. 

Then I remembered. 

Yes, that's why I took the challenge.  It has been a long fight and it's not over yet … 
don't give up now …

So, I told you about the Miracle of Dr. Hitt and the Yumminess and good fortune of Deep,
as well as filled in some of the blanks that lead up to needing Deep.  All those years of being housebound and bedridden, my muscles had atrophied.  During the first daylight moments, when strong enough to start leaving the house, my muscles couldn't support the mess that was my spine.  Although, for the record, I will have you know, I never think of it as as mess, but visualize my spine to be in perfect health and normal.  I won't give the depth of any injury or degenerative condition that much power. 

I knew where I wanted to go in life, and my mind was my most powerful tool to get there. 
If you choose to stay focused on the positive, you allow your miracles to happen right before your eyes. 

The year of Deep, that's what we'll call this next year.  I can't say his name without remembering his explanation of how to pronounce his name.  Hardep.  It makes me smile.
It made him blush.  Rather like he couldn't believe he'd said what he'd said … after he'd said it. 

That happens to me.  A lot.

The window frames of energy had begun opening up wider in my life, allowing room for more time in my day.  Granted, what I had was far less than you can imagine and now was being eaten up with the need for physical therapy. 

Still, I was grateful.  I had more of a life now than I did during those long, long, listless filled days making an imprint on my mattress.  And Deep was not only an excellent physical therapist, he was very entertaining to.  Or was that me entertaining him?  Sometimes it was hard to tell.

I guess God decided my life had been too boring and needed a little shake up.  Or the fates that be decided to do an intervention.  Regardless of how it happened, just while I was getting this "walking" thing down and starting to focus more on building energy, life happened.

First, Deep left the hospital and I was without a physical therapist.  I'm not going to tell you I wasn't scared.  He was my security blanket.  My one way ticket to not just walking, but walking without pain.

Next, I thought it was odd when, out of the blue, my landlord blurted out "I'd never sell your house, so you're safe" one day when I dropped off rent.  It was a bit like have a red flag waved in front of a bull, but my life had not yet been exposed enough to the world outside of my home to know a housing market boom had begun.

The next month I came home from a grueling appointment with the neurologist who had just dropped the bomb on me, "You'll never be able to lean, bend, lift, sit for very long or wear heels again for the rest of your life." 

Little did I know, that was only the warm up.  The bomb was about to begin!

My neurologist hadn't really passed the course on "Bedside Manners" in medical school, so she was quite tactless and quite brutal when she blurted out the news to me.  She gave no room for hope and only the instructions that if I didn't follow her directions exactly, I COULD end up in a wheelchair for the rest of my life.  I wanted, no, NEEDED to talk to Deep more than ever right then.  But I didn't know where he was.

If you knew the ballerina, gymnast, basketball player, horse woman that I am, you would know the word "wheelchair" and "me" in the same sentence was like a death tole.

I left the neurologist's office in this haze of white cloudy smoke.  Numb.  Like an out of body experience, yet you're still inside of your body.  Move.  Walk.  Drive.  Park the car.  Walk up to the front door.

There, neatly placed in the crack of my oak finished door was a pristine, bright white piece of paper.  Odd, I thought, "I wonder who's left what on my door."

I turned the paper over and I went completely blank after seeing one word.

EVICTION.

I had lived in my home for twelve years.  I put in the yard, planted the flowers.  Nurtured it, treated it as my own home.

EVICTION.

I broke into tears.

My landlord, during the beginning of the housing market boom had sold my house and given me a 30 day notice.  So much for he'd never sell my home, huh?
Combined with the news I'd just received from the neurologist, this wasn't ending up to be one of the all time best days of my life. 

I took a deep breath.
I knew I had lived through worse.

No matter how difficult or how much your heart may despair, never stop believing that there is a miracle waiting and ready to happen.  It's always there.  With faith you can see it.  With fear you will never believe in it. 

BELIEVE.

(to be cont.)

Day 8  #28DayChallenge  #TheComeBackStory

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One response to “The Bomb that Made me a Believer … (The Come Back Story)

  1. Very interesting, I will have to read what you have written previous to this.

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