Post #2 -- When Only the Nail on My Pinky Finger Does Not Hurt

Once upon a time in a not-too-far-away land there lived a rather unusual old man.  One week, in the height of Summer heat this man, rather old and obviously not too smart, set about to paint  a red tin roof on a nearby garage.  On one particular morning that week, actually quite early in the morning to beat the heat (now only a cool 93 degrees), life changed — and as you guessed, in not too smart a fashion. Fortunately for this sad fellow, his son dutifully painted with him on the other side of that pitched tin roof.  Together they painted amidst a torrential burst of perspiration for nearly an hour, when duly depressed with the foolishness of painting in such a sorrowful state, both this sad  old man and son began winding down all painting operations.  The old man was dispatched to return to the ground while the son finished a bit more painting on the other side of the roof.  

In the process of descending the ladder the old man did indeed abruptly, unintentionally and rather ceremoniously returned to the ground. 

Partway down the ladder for some strange, still unclear, reason this old man placed weight on the outside edge of the ladder rung which in effect created a severe weight imbalance across the width of the ladder rung. The ladder did what ladders do in situations like this -- it rotated and catapulted the old man into thin air.  

The return to the ground was resounding!  

Actually the fall was only six or seven feet, but the landing nonetheless was memorable — resulting in a twisted chest cavity and a short, unscheduled nap.  According to the son, who in superman-like fashion descended the heights from the other side of the roof, the next moments were quite dramatic, including several minutes worth of a seizure-like activity and a blackout. To the son, this was IT!  Several ambulances (though one could certainly have done the job) soon arrived with numerous policemen and shortly thereafter carried the poor old fellow off to the local trauma center.  

Apparently in this not-too-far-away land, the combination of a fall, a blackout, and high heat qualifies the lucky person for a high-priority entrance into the local trauma center.  Undaunted by the massive coating of blood-like red paint, the medical experts of this trauma center promptly and unashamedly cut away every inch of the poor fellow’s clothing, poked and prodded all over, asked all kinds of questions, and administered tests galore!  These guys really know their stuff!  After more tests than could be counted on several pairs of hands and feet, the verdict is out: "several cracked ribs and maybe some more".  

Now the recovery process begins with those six cracked ribs --  regular Percocet to manage the pain (with its drowsiness and constipation), constantly moving like molasses on a cold January morning, including taking at least 30 minutes to get out of bed … and now learning to sleep sitting or standing upright.  

Does it hurt, friends have asked?  Answer: everything but the nail on my pinky finger!  

But praise God — this could have been much, much worse.  Life is indeed short and full of unexpected surprises.  Let's live each moment to the fullest!  In case it's still not crystal clear, yes, that old man is me.

But alas, the story does not end here.  Out of this unfortunate, unscheduled visit to the trauma center came evidence that indeed something new and unexpected was occurring in this sad, old man’s body.  This will change his life forever and open up a vast reservoir of new possibilities to grow from simply “surviving” to truly “thriving”. 

Watch for subsequent posts to explore these possibilities to truly THRIVE.