Allow me to begin this post by asking that you forgive any typos that may appear since I'm heavily medicated and I'm typing with one hand, and my left hand at that.
One of my favorite television shows was ER, and my favorite character on that show was Dr. John Carter played by Noah Wyle. When the show began, John Carter was a medical student, and over the years that the show ran, he made it through his residency and became a doctor. One of the things that fascinated me about Dr. Carter's character was that he came from an extremely wealthy family and didn't need to work ... he could have spent his life jet-setting around the globe and living a life that most people only dream of living. But instead, he chose to become a doctor and even spent a stint of time serving in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. Dr. John Carter's character was stabbed and became addicted to prescription drugs, got married and lost his first child, took over the family estate when his grandmother passed away and battled cancer. I told you ... he was my favorite character, and I was sad when he left the show.
For those of you who have messaged me to ask why there's been no blog for the last few days, here's the deal. My visit to the orthopedic surgeon on Wednesday ended with a cortisone injection deep into my shoulder, along with a couple of numbing agents so that I wouldn't have pain from the shot for a few hours. Because of where my rotator cuff is torn and because I have diabetes, the surgeon wants to try to avoid surgery if at all possible. I went on to work, but as the afternoon wore on, the pain returned and to say it was intense is an understatement. By the time I got in my car to drive home from downtown, waves of nausea were sweeping over me and my head was pounding. I finally got home after having to pull over a couple of times, washed down some pain medication, put ice packs on my shoulder and climbed into bed with the hounds by my side.
I'll spare you the details of the remainder of the evening, but eventually, a friend arrived and took me to the emergency room of our local hospital. I can't recall much about the time I was at the hospital, but I do remember an IV with some heavy-duty medications. It's funny what drugs do to your mind, and I suppose I should ask my friend just what I did say while I was being infused with morphine and valium ... or maybe I don't want to know. At any rate, I remember thinking as I was laying in the hospital bed ... they need to page Dr. Carter ... I need Dr. John Carter ... he could make my pain go away. I hope I didn't say that out loud in the ER ... I really hope I didn't. And I guess I didn't or they probably would have admitted me to the psychiatric ward.
I've spent the last two days in agonizing pain ... I just thought my shoulder hurt before the injection, but now I'd give anything to have my original pain level back. Funny how one's perspective can change so quickly, huh? I've been thinking all day (at least during the times I've been able to form some rational thoughts) about perspective ... about how different my perspective about life is now than it was a year or so ago. Depression has changed so much about me ... it's altered the very core of me in many ways. My shoulder isn't all that hurts; in fact, the pain in my shoulder is minor compared to the aching within my heart and soul. And for as much as I want my shoulder pain to subside, I so much more want my heart and soul to heal.
Now that God has me contemplating the concept of perspective, I wonder ... I wonder if that is part of His plan for me ... to cause me to see things in a different light, to feel in a way I never have before, to find strength in Him on a whole new level. Maybe I don't need Dr. John Carter after all ... maybe I need the Great Physician.
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