Learning to Lean — SheLoves

Each month, it is my privilege to write for SheLoves Magazine. Here are some reflections on the idea of authenticity. . .


So exactly how authentic would you like me to be? Would you like some of the more grimy details related to surgical recovery? A picture of what it’s like to be suddenly down to one leg?

Well, okay then. A little peek into our days just now, a glimpse of where I find myself post-surgery, and some of what I’m learning while I’m here.

Have you ever tried to get into a shower with one foot? Can’t be done, I tell you. Cannot be done. I’ve recently begun to master the fine art of hopping, but jumping? Not gonna happen. And any shower with a normal door requires one gigantic jump, let me tell you.

The only appliance — and believe me, we have several — the only appliance that helped me get into that shower is my new best friend, a four-wheeled contraption called a knee caddy. The walker just did not cut it. The crutches? Fuggedabout it. Even the shower chair, on loan from a friend, didn’t help all that much. But that funky scooter, coupled with one determined husband?

Yeah, that did the trick.

Half in and half out, my injured leg atop the cushions on said scooter, I finally managed to make the small leap over the shower lip and land safely on the tiled bench we built into our shower over a decade ago. Our shower — part of the master suite, which has become my home of late. And also, my prison.

I knew this would happen. I’ve been preparing for it for a couple of months now, practicing my maneuvers on one leg, learning to keep everything I need within reach, asking for help when I need it.

But it’s that last piece that is the worst one of all.

I am not good at asking for help. I’m pretty good at giving it, been doing that all of my life. But receiving it? An experience so unfamiliar as to be downright unrecognizable, almost undoable. It seems I would rather take the risk of falling out of bed to make that one – last – reach than to raise my voice and shout for HELP.

Why is that, I wonder?

Won’t you follow me over to SheLoves for the rest of this piece and the always wonderful conversational thread that builds in that place. . .

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  1. I’m following you over there, Diana, but I wanted you to know I’ve been following your recovery too. You are a brave soul, you know that? I learn so much from watching the way you do life. Thank you.

  2. I’m not sure I have an answer to that Diana, because I’m the same way. It’s amazing how difficult the recovery time can be. When I had scoliosis surgery, and had to be flat on my back for weeks and weeks I truly disappointed myself. Before surgery I had lofty plans of praying and studying the word and growing spiritually by leaps and bounds. Hardly the case.
    However, the days finally got easier as the healing progressed – so keep hanging on. I’m praying for you and totally understanding.

  3. Oh, yeah. I thought I’d get all this prayer time in, do a lot of writing/working/thinking on a book project. NONE of it. Barely enough energy for the Jesus prayer as I drift off to sleep and no focus for extended writing. I have been able to do several essays for other sites, but my own blog has suffered mightily during this spell. Not quite how I pictured it. Thanks for your prayers and for your understanding.

  4. I’m praying for you, Diana. This time sounds like no fun at all! I relate to your questions about why it is so uncomfortable to need and accept help. Your posts remind me of something my mom shared from a book she was reading when Grandma was ill. Those who need help play a vital role in the body of Christ. Those who serve them learn from and with them. Those who help you now are also receiving a blessing.