A Light for My Path

I am not a superstitious person. I don’t believe in signs or symbols or talismans. Sure, I’ll wish someone good luck if they are entering a contest or competing in a game. But, it’s just encouragement. I don’t think my saying it has an effect on the outcome. I believe it’s good practice to be prepared, but also that I can’t anticipate everything and some things are just outside of my control.

I believe all that, but I don’t necessarily like it. Especially the “outside of my control” part. I worry and fret about the unknown. I believe and trust that God has it all in His capable hands. But, I also find myself frequently praying “I do believe; help my unbelief.” (Mark 9:24)

This has always been my nature. I wrote in previous blog posts about being a worrywart. And how the completely unexpected sudden death of my daughter has magnified many of my personality traits, both positive and negative ones. I’ve gotten better about keeping my tendencies to worry and fret at bay, but they still flair up at times.

This past week has been one of those times.

“Keep at bay” is an old expression. It started as a hunting term. Hounds will bay when they are pursuing prey. If hunters didn’t want the hounds to attack, they would hold them back or pen them in, but the dogs would continue to howl (or bay). Keeping my worries and emotions at bay doesn’t mean they’ve gone away, but at least they are under control and aren’t attacking me.

My husband had knee replacement surgery on Monday, the 8^th. He had the first knee done last August, so we knew that to expect and were prepared at home. When I picked him up at the hospital on Tuesday, we had to wait longer than expected for him to be released. So, he was hungry for lunch and wanted to stop to eat. The restaurant was busy and we ended up sitting longer than we should have. But, he wasn’t really feeling it because the nerve block hadn’t completely worn off, so the pain was still at bay. An hour or so later, he was in desperate need of bed and pain pills. Later that evening he woke up with a swollen leg and a fever.

My worst-case fears kicked in. He has a blood clot! He has a horrible infection! We need to go to the emergency room! My panic was frustrating my husband. He wanted to look at the post-op information from the hospital. I wanted to call 911.

So, I went into another room while he read through paperwork. I wish I could say I sat and prayed, but I paced and worried instead.

The swollen leg was expected and exacerbated by sitting without it propped up for too long. The fever was within an acceptable range and a possible side effect of the massive dose of antibiotics they had given him that morning. Some pain medication and the ice machine had them both under control within another few hours.

As I write this, it’s now been five days since surgery. He still has some swelling and bruising on his leg. He is still using the ice machine to soothe the ache and inflammation. But, he isn’t taking the strong pain pills and is managing with ibuprofen. He is also walking without the walker in the house, and back and forth across the porch every few hours with it. He’s got five weeks of PT to do and isn’t even grousing about it. (Is this really my husband?)

We’re definitely not out of the woods yet. Complications could arise. He needs to be careful he doesn’t stumble. He . . .

STOP! I’m doing it again. Anticipating the worst.

Father, I do believe; help my unbelief. And, help me keep my worries at bay.

---

Laura