There was a fascinating 2 page spread in today's SL tribune. It was the story of a man who was critically injured in a bike accident last November. He is basically a quadriplegic. This man was a professor of English at the U of U. He loved the out of doors spending much of his free time surrounded by it's magnificence and beauty. He took nourishment and strength from the lessons that only nature can teach. He loved pushing his body, past it's limits sometimes, in all kinds of adventures. That all changed in a split second.
He told of the many lessons he has learned from being very independent, to now being dependant for even each breath he takes. He was asked if he would trade dressing, feeding, breathing, walking himself, you name it, in place of the lessons he has learned. He said, "I'd give up physical autonomy . I have learned the depth of compassion and friendship."
My honey and I went on a 2+ mile walk around the lake last night. It was great on so many levels. Ron told me of all the running routes he takes and how many miles they are. He stopped several times to assess yardage from point A to point B.
I also felt somewhat sad, as that is what I used to do all the time. I used to have sooo many running routes with all of the corresponding mileage. I asked Ron if he thought I would ever run again. He isn't sure. I'm not either I guess, as my feet, ankles, knees, even toes, were cramping up.
Would I give up lessons learned from trials experienced? Interesting. Because of my addiction, my children are all very cautious, paranoid almost, of taking any medications. I'm grateful for addiction. Our children had to lean on each other during the years and years of their dad's illnesses. They all support and love each in all they are and do. I'll take it. Losing Andy brought us Curtis. You all know the answer to that. With that came an empathy for women who can never have children. Corneal transplants blessed me with a deeper understanding of the atonement. Jami's car accident brought a dependence on the Savior I had not had. My prayers for my daughter, and a mother who lost her son, were never so fervent. I learned a better way of communicating with Deity. Having a daughter in turmoil to the point of contemplating suicide, taught me the deeper meaning of unconditional Christlike love.
There are other lessons I have learned from other experiences, and other experiences I have yet to learn from.
I don't know what I'll learn from RA. I am still in the denial stage. Do I wish I didn't have it? Yep, I do. The lessons will come later.