Part II. Of Tendons and Ligaments: LEFT WRIST

Another little issue that appeared this year was my left wrist.

It probably stems from a fall on my bike when my front wheel went down into a little ditch of pine needles and then stopped short at the pavement. The handlebars quickly twisted and I went straight down, scraping my shin on the pedal and tangling my legs into the frame.

As I brushed off and straightened up slowly, I did a quick mental appraisal of the damages, relieved to discover nothing broken, able to bandage up my shin and get back on the bike! 

It was only the next day or two that I became aware of a little aggravated place on my wrist as I was lifting laundry baskets or grocery bags.

I mentioned it at my physical in June and the doc thought it was the tendon, so I started babying it, wearing wristbands, asking prison guards to carry Bibles for me, and sleeping with it elevated.

Over a period of a couple months it seems to have improved a little, but the occasional stabbing pain keeps me wondering what’s going on in there? 

It could be when my hairbrush catches and jerks my hand back a little too quickly. Or, when I’m rushing around to get out the door in the morning and grab the keys and purse in one hand, a water bottle and book bag in the other without thinking. Ouch!

Then there are the times when I’m rolling over in bed and reach out to pull the covers up, or readjust a pillow, forgetting. Eeeek! 

Shouldn’t that be healed by now, Lord? 

Well, here it is a few weeks before Thanksgiving and I finally had my first appointment with a hand specialist at U Mass Medical Center. They took x-rays and even I could tell they looked perfect. Now I have to come back for an ultrasound.

There are plenty of things going on in us that even an x-ray can’t detect.

So, what is it about this that I need to learn, Father? 

Inner healing takes the most time. Knitting bones, rebuilding tendons like the Planters Fasciitis in my foot, are not real fast. I am still walking with a limp at times, especially after housecleaning or carrying grandbabies up a few flights of stairs. I need patience. 

Anyone looking at me as I sip a caramel macchiato in Barnes and Noble right now might not suspect there's anything wrong but God knows, the strain of climbing that mountain in New Hampshire and falling from my bike left their marks in me.

How many wounds and scars do we carry? We all have them. That 3” line on my knee from stitches as a kid, a little “u” on my right index finger where I cut myself skinning a pig leg…  

Every mark brings up a story. A piece of history. What are you carrying? What grabs at you that may still need some attention or forgiveness?

Thank you Father for your good work in me. I trust you for total healing as I continue the journey with you.