Tears

The summer of 2009 marked 15 years since I was diagnosed with Hodgkin's disease. I believed at that point there were no major problems from the cancer. I have to take a thyroid medication, but that isn't all that uncommon, and I have a few scars from surgery.

I had had a bone spur removed from my right hip in 2007, but I thought that had more to do with a family history of arthritis. The problem was I never really recovered from that minor surgery. In fact, I seemed to get worse, and both hips began bothering me.

I limped along for two more years wondering what in the world was going on. I saw the chiropractor weekly. She was wonderful, but she was stumped as to why I was having so much trouble particularly with my muscles staying intensely tight all the time. My regular doctor gave my pain pills. And the orthopedic doctor prescribed physical therapy. None of this made me feel any better. By the time I finished teaching my first year of school, I had frequent episodes where my right leg would catch in searing pain and I couldn't move it forward or backward until the spasm passed. My ever- and over-protective mother suggested we go to the Mayo clinic in Jacksonville, Florida, for more testing since we had no real answers from any of the doctors we'd seen here. Being utterly opposed to seeing new doctors, it was a hard decision to make. However, I called and scheduled an appointment for the end of July.

The Mayo clinic is AWESOME. If you are ever in need of diagnosis or treatment, go there. After an initial appointment, the doctors quickly diagnosed my problem with three simple x-rays, which by the way, no one had done at home. I had to have both my hips replaced. Both hips were so deteriorated that one doctor suggested if I didn't have my hips replaced right away I could be in a wheelchair in less than a year. And worst of all (at least to me) the probable reason for the hip deterioration was a particular medicine I took during my chemotherapy. After 15 years, that stupid monster had crept back into my life.

I never truly knew what it meant to be hysterical. However, as I tried to fall asleep that night in the hotel, the thoughts of having diseased bones in my body, giant scars on both legs, cancer stealing my bones, fear of being sick, the unfairness of it all overwhelmed me. At first the tears slowly leaked from my eyes. Before long, the tears were streaming out full force. The sobs were coming so quickly I choked again and again. I couldn't get enough breath to form the screams I wanted to release from my body. I couldn't logically process anything. I just wanted to escape from it all, but there was no way to escape from my own broken body. I can't tell you how long this went on. I know it went on long enough for my mom to transform from sweet and comforting to a drill sergeant demanding that I get a hold of myself. Finally, I went to sleep. I woke up with sore muscles the next day, evidence of the stress I had put on my body.

As broken as I was that day, God took care of me. He moved things so that I was able to see the orthopedic surgeon a week later. Then He arranged things so that there was a cancellation that allowed me to have my first hip replacement by the end of August instead of mid-October. That made it possible for me to be recovered in time to take a teaching job at Elberta Middle School by October 1. Then He changed the schedule again so that I could have my other hip replacement May 24. This worked well because I missed the boring teacher work days at the end of school. And now I have two strong hips to move me forward.

Where I was broken, I am healed. With Thanksgiving less than a week away, I realize how thankful I am for all that has happened and the way it happened to bring me to the point I'm at now. Looking and walking forward without cancer and without pain.