Looking for Light In the Simple Moments
Finding Wonder In the Unexpected Turns
It has been far too long since I’ve written you. The last few weeks have been packed with getting ready for surgery, having surgery, and coming back from surgery.
It has been more intense than I ever expected.
(And yes, Days 41-60 of our 100 Days of Wonder prompts are coming later today or in the early morning tomorrow EST… I have not forgotten!)
Honestly, yesterday was the first time I had 5 minutes I didn’t feel like a flattened potato crisp wedged between the car back seats in a Florida July.
I looked out my studio window a few nights ago to this beauty of a sky that looked like heaven spilled out its best colors in the clouds. The photo doesn’t even begin to do it justice.
And there I was… out in my front yard as the odd neighbor who stands in her driveway with her neck gently craned upward, soaking in the art display above her head.
Beauty heals. To offer it back to the places of our own brokenness, or to that of a hurting world, is a profound gift. And it is a gift each one of us can bring in our own ways.
It’s why I have trained my heart to notice clouds and light beams, the way the sun dances on water, the smallest sidewalk flower… and find JOY in them like it’s a freaking survival skill. Because it is.
It served me well in African war zones, and in my own personal battles with health, loss, and grief.
Story time?
March 17 my aunt and uncle picked me up, and we drove the 3.5 hours south to the specialty hospital where I was to have my hyperactive parathyroid gland taken out.
From everything I read it was a simple procedure and as a veteran of 24+ surgeries, I was not concerned in the least.
Easy-peasy lemon squeezey… right on my butterfly coconut shrimp dinner I had the night before on the waterfront. Vacay vibes, right?
This gorgeous burst of light was captured on our way to dinner. Light streaming in, surrounded by promise. You might notice the perfect rainbow ring to the flare.
The next day rolled around, and I had my parathyroid surgery, completely underestimating what I was in for.
(The next few paragraphs has discussion of medical trauma, so feel free to skip to this section if you need to. I’ve put a divider line at the beginning and at the end so you can find that point easily.)
I wasn’t even fully awake before someone was telling me to swallow a Citracal monster pill. I mean, I had barely cracked an eyelid. I still don’t know how I didn’t choke.
Then came the weird post-anesthesia uncontrollable crying fit that had nothing to do with how I “felt” emotionally. That lasted on and off for 2–3 days.
And the clincher… the only pain meds I was sent home with were instructions to take ibuprofen, which I cannot take because of being protective of my 1 and only kidney.
I tried to explain why I needed a different protocol weeks before the surgery.
I have one leg. I walk with crutches. You are cutting on my neck in an area where I have to use those muscles to stabilize my balance.
“Of course, we will manage any pain. Don’t worry,” came the response.
Before the surgery, I reminded them again. After the surgery, waking up in a post anesthesia stupor, I tried to advocate letting them know this was way more pain than anyone had let on.
Especially given they had to hyperextend the only few movable vertebrae in my body to position my neck.
I tried easily 5+ times to advocate for myself over the following days. And I was told, just use ice. This surgery isn’t painful. Take ibuprofen. Oh, never mind, take Tylenol.
Which has about as much effect as a tall glass of water.
The more I asked, the more I was gaslit and treated like an annoyance with a pain med addiction.
I was left on my own to navigate this entire recovery with zero pain management. Zero.
I will NEVER do this again. If I have to have another surgery, I will have pain management prescribed or agreed to in writing ahead of time, or I will not do the surgery. Period.
I cannot even tell you how much this has triggered medical trauma from my childhood when similar things happened.
In trying to protect those neck/chest muscles as I walked, I subsequently threw my back and hip out and have been hobbling around barely able to stand more than a few moments at a time the last 10 days.
Add in, I was put on a cookie cutter dose of supplemental calcium that wound up sending me to the ER after arriving home with my blood calcium many times higher than it ever was before the surgery to fix it.
So it has been a rollercoaster ride of a few weeks. To put it mildly.
My calcium and hormone levels are now normal with no supplementation needed… and I’m noticing tiny improvements that I am beyond grateful for.
What has been getting me through?
A prescribed diet of ice cream helped. 🍨
Shutting the world out for a week and sleeping as much as my body wanted. Literally no schedule. Trusting my internal rhythms to figure themselves out eventually.
Watching movies I’ve seen a gillion times because they are almost like old friends.
Working on launching a new way of doing creative business coaching and starting a weekly letter for creatives & creative businesses… I know that doesn’t sound restful, but being able to hyper-focus my attention on something new and hopeful is actually a dang-good moderate level pain management strategy.
Standing under and soaking in this stunning sky. Yes, this was the actual color. It was breathtaking in all the best ways.
Celebrating every incremental improvement. But giving myself permission to slow all the way down for as long as it takes.
Getting myself to my physical therapist and my acupuncturist. And planning to do so weekly until all my twisted muscles find their way back to baseline.
Savoring my coffee perking, and being able to taste it again. Laying on the carpet by my sliding glass door, watching the tree tops sway in the late March wind. Noticing that even with all the challenges, my brain is feeling a little clearer every few days.
Carefully, stepping back in to working on writing this book. But writing it first with my own choices and actions before the words ever land on a page.
And today…. Connecting again with YOU here.
You are an enormous source of hope and joy in my world. Getting to serve you, it means more than I can say. It is an honor and a joy.
You… supporting this space with your presence, your time, and for those who are able, a paid subscription, is a marvel and a thing of beauty I am grateful for every single day.
Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.
If you are up for it… comment and share a way you found wonder in an unexpected place over the last few weeks.
I think a semiregular wonder roll call would be such a fun way to celebrate all the ways wonder shows up and holds us. Let’s make this post the first! Ready-steady-go…
You are so loved.
"a flattened potato crisp wedged between the car back seats in a Florida July." Loved this image. And how it made me feel. So identify with this! Glad you are on the mend and back in the writing world. 🤗
Sending love & blessings for your recovery. Your story is moving and touches a cord in my own experience. My sense of wonder has been heightened this year because I decided to read through the Bible book by book, verse by verse. When I got to Leviticus, I knew it would challenge my persistence because it would be difficult to get through and I wanted to come through it with an understanding of the book. I decided to look up teachers who were going through Leviticus verse by verse on YouTube. It helped tremendously. I'm now going through 2 Kings. The wonder I feel at this time is created by the way I see God's hand in history from the beginning. It's as if wonder is the catalyst between God and mankind. God shows his wonderous power and the best in mankind responds. The gifts, the rescues, the care and understanding we receive from God are truly wonders.