This too Shall Pass

Not a day goes by that I don't experience an intense amount of pain and frustration.  Usually starts as I lay down to bed, and my leg starts to play it's obnoxious games.  The tone that I posted about sets in as it begins to relax, and immediately curls, my ankle creeps backward toward my butt, and forget straightening it.  The more I fight the tighter it locks and the deeper the knife stabs into the back of my knee.  It becomes necessary to use my left foot to push  my right leg straight and just grit my teeth until it relaxes, and the race begins.  Fall asleep before it starts again.  Don't even ask about trying to roll over.  Most people can roll over and not even wake up.  I wish!  I am fully awake, play the game to re-straighten my leg, use my left arm to pull my right arm up across my chest, roll and grab my bed cane (A handle attached to my bed), pull and flip to the other side, all while praying, "Don't go too far."
Finally morning arrives.  I grab my handle bar, pull myself to sit up.  At this point my useless right leg becomes the worlds perfect counterbalance, and keeps my shoulders pinned to the bed.  With a last ditch effort, either sit up or end up sprawled out on the floor, I give it one last pull.  With an earthquake of motion, my poor wife still tries to sleep, I bounce and squirm to get my feet to the edge, and heave.  If I am actually successful, now out of breath. I sit and try to untie myself from my now spasmed and useless shoulder and arm.  As things begin to loosen up, at least I sit and hope, I place my feet to the floor and get ready to dance.  The clonus in my right leg fires up full speed ahead, and it bounces and bounces.  Still clinging to my bed cane, I try and balance and build up enough courage to embark on the perilous journey to the bathroom, a whopping six steps.  You would think I was walking across broken glass, mixed into a fire walk, while my foot is asleep.

Most days I spend the next hour getting dressed and ready to head to Physical Therapy.  After two hours of treating my body like an amusement park and wanting to curl up and die, I make it home, find the edge my bed, grab my life line (bed cane), and again fall onto the bed, this time with a goal to build enough energy to get showered and get dressed for the day. 
I can easily tell you what day of the week it is simply by the level of pain, and my ability to use my right side, or the lack thereof.  Days I have therapy my entire right side, including balance and what little strength I have is completely gone.  Weekends are great, by Saturday mid afternoon, I am feeling almost normal, the new normal, which I'm still learning.  Sunday my body begins to revolt, knowing full well what lies ahead the next morning.

I am more and more grateful and overwhelmed by the love of our Savior, Jesus Christ, and our eternal Father in Heaven.  This has become a very special Christmas.  I am forever thankful to know that I am never alone, and that there is always someone who understands, my pains and frustrations.  Elder Jeffrey R. Holland commented, "Without Easter there would be no Christmas."  Without the atoning sacrifice endured in the garden, and the eternal sacrifice and of the cross and the even more wonderful perfecting resurrection, I know that this trial is only temporary, and that in time, I too will "walk and not be weary, run and not faint," and that the days of seemingly endless pain will be turned to endless joy.

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Merry Christmas

-Nate Taylor