I sat in that room.
Tears still matting the sides of my face.
I could see movement
a nurse dashing here and there busying herself.
I could hear monitors, my monitors,
beeping steadily away.
And I could not move.
My arm, which I so freely moved hours before, was now strapped down.
My arm had no feeling.
That was to be expected.
Hours earlier I sat still as the anesthesiologist inserted a nerve block in my clavicle.
Slowly, slowly, I felt it run down my arm.
My elbows, wrist and fingers.
It was numb.
Reminds me of my heart sometimes.
I’m okay, I’ll whisper to friends.
Don’t worry about it, I’ll say.
And yet, inside, there’s numbness.
I sat there again.
Under lights much too bright
Now aware of the pain, the discomfort in my body,
yet still, unable to move my arm.
In order to leave I needed to get dressed.
And yet, I couldn’t move.
No matter how hard I willed those left handed fingers to rise
they’d just rest there.
There was no nerve connection.
Sometimes my heart is the same.
The head and heart lose the connection
and I move through life racing around
panting my okays and i’m fines and greats
and yet I’m unaware that I’m hiding.
Or if I am aware
I hide behind the busy.
So there I sat.
The nurse who I joked with hours earlier now guided my hand
slowly into the sleeve of my worn gray shirt
a hand limp and moving only by the will of another.
She carefully lifted my shirt up over my neck
and placed that arm back in my sling
until I was clothed.
I was humbled.
The nerve block gradually wore away
and my arm slowly began to wake up.
As my brain reconnected with the nerves in my fingers
I rejoiced over feeling again.
Even if it meant I could feel the pain.
Feeling the pain meant that the healing could begin.
I’ve lived numb
with that block between my heart and mind.
It’s safer, less risky.
Yet, I can’t go back.
I just can’t go back to not feeling.
So now my heart, my heart hurts sometimes.
Like yesterday when the tears once again rolled down.
When I couldn’t peel an orange.
Or shut the car door.
Or pretend to be strong anymore.
I’m humbled in this journey right now.
Humbled to share my heart.
Right where I am.
Walking The Visual Journey
If you’re following the Brave Art of Motherhood Visual Journey . . . I actually have a picture from back when I started the blog. And it makes me smile.
What a moving post! I felt I walked through this with you.
What touching words Rachel! You always touch my heart when I stop by to read. I can relate fully to the things you said…thank you for sharing your heart so freely so that we may all encourage each other!
May you FIND joy as you SEEK it. Praying for quick healing.
We are often brought down so that He can be made great…and so we can lean on the Greatness!!! He will give you joy 🙂 Rest.
“We are often brought down so that He can be made great…and so we can lean on the Greatness!!! He will give you joy 🙂 Rest.”
Took the words out of my mouth.
Thank you for sharing your life, praying for you 🙂
i read this in Grace for the Good Girl: “good girls never ask for help yet get frustrated when everyone thinks they’re ok.” i can so relate to that statement. it is humbling to ask for help. and now that you have a visible hurt, it’s easier for people to see the need. i’m learning that people really do want to help. Jesus wants to use others to help us. because we need it. wish i was there to peel that orange or open a car door. love ya.
powerful stuff . . . hang in there.
ok, yip, I think this is one of the best posts you have written. So insightful and deep. Love, love, love, it!
What beautiful, touching words, Rachel. I am inspired by your ability to show your vulnerability.
I hate it when body parts are numb. In my case it was my legs. Just so glad that it’s over and every day’s a little bit better!
Lifting up prayers right now!
Psalms 20:5-7 We will rejoice in thy salvation, and in the name of our God we will set up our banners: the LORD fulfil all thy petitions. Now know I that the LORD saveth his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven with the saving strength of his right hand. Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the LORD our God.
My email address
Rachel, your words…always reach into my heart….you, my friend…may have numbness in some areas of your body, bug God has planted some beautiful blessings in your heart…love the way you are sharing with others!
I’d love to know more behind this, maybe I need to do some catching up, but either way, it was beautiful and so are you, and this piece..