Prayer v. Knitting

Sunday morning.  I am talking with God today.  The conversation doesn’t have anything to do with the day of the week.  I talk to God every day.  My discussion today is about the anguish of having three days with no sacroiliac pain, and then the recurrence of it today.  Why three good days?  Why let me build up hope, anticipate the long-awaited end of this flare?  Is it to emphasize my ignorance about this process, make me see the limitations of thinking of it logically and scientifically?  Am I supposed to learn some lesson here? 

 

I find myself in that humble, bargaining frame of mind.  I’m looking back over the past few days, trying to see if my behavior was too confident, too soon.  My only activities during the lovely three days without pain were a trip to the grocery store, the usual household stuff, and knitting group.  I didn’t overdo it.  Uh-oh, maybe I didn’t do enough?  Do you think, God, that I should have used the three days more wisely?  Maybe I could have spent that time engaging with the world on some more useful, less selfish level? 

 

Yesterday I was intoxicated with happiness, jubilant over a few days free from the lancinating back pain.  Today I am angry and low.  The flare that I’m begging to go away has been with me since springtime.  It is the fall, my favorite season.  I haven’t been able to enjoy the outdoor allure of the fall in years.  The whole time my daughter was in high school, I was entering flares in the fall.  For eight years, I didn’t see a live football game, go on the color cruise and enjoy the lovely fall foliage around the Tennessee River, take my wares to the Chattanooga Market.  I’ve had such great hopes for this fall. 

 

I am not having a good conversation.  I have no sense of why this is happening.  I have no feeling of when I can get relief enough to walk to my kitchen and stand up to make a meal.  Today I hurried to the kitchen, irrationally trying to outrun the onset of the pain.  I sat on a stool and rolled back and forth between counters, preparing my cup of coffee and a bowl of random food choices.  Right now, I’m sitting down, waiting for a pain pill to bring some relief, and hoping that nausea doesn’t accompany it.  It’s not so much the pain, as what it means.  The sacroiliac pain means those joints are still inflammed, meaning the flare isn’t gone.  Damn.

 

I am trying to knit my way through, as usual.  The beautiful Karabella Breeze yarn has gone a long way.  I will finish this scarf from one ball of yarn.  I’ve stretched it out to imitate the blocked shape, and it measures a good 52 inches.  I can finish today.  That will feel like an accomplishment, making use of what I can do while this stupid flare persists.  This is something that reminds me of my career in medicine-working until the job is done.  Every day, I stayed in my office until the last patient was taken care of.  These days, I sit and knit until I have a finished product.  I am proud of what I do.  It feels useful.  I produce beautiful products that perform well and last a long time.  Today this knowledge soothes me more than my prayers. 

 

Peace.

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