You HAVE to be kidding me....

Ok, no one told me when I signed up for this stupid shoulder surgery that I would actually have to obey the surgeon's rules. I never had to before..why should I now, right? WRONG! Ok, so I knew it would be about 3 months before I get up to speed again, about 6-8 weeks in a sling (maybe more) but no one told me those were hard fast rules. My knee reconstruction had some "rules" attached but I didn't exactly obey them and my surgeon didn't have a cow when I didn't. He was actually willing to allow me to "push" thru some tuff stuff to speed the process along.

Not this one. Nope. Not the shoulder. It seems to be the only stinkin joint in the entire body that has these stupid rules that "must" be adhered to. All right...so I am not the most patient person in the entire world. I will clue you in to how much so. It was the morning of surgery and the nurse came out to get me. They led me into a room and gave me simple instructions....disrobe completely (less underwear) and put the robe on, opening in front. Check. I got changed and went out and the nurse said "boy, you don't waste any time". "you told me to get dressed. I did. Now I'm done". HHHHMMMM....I wondered what kind of a comment that was. How long could it possibly take to change clothes?!? Post note: post surgery it takes nearly 20 minutes! Then, I go to the pre surgical room to be hooked up to monitors and the like and to discuss anesthesia with the doc. Done. Another nurse comes in and says, "boy, you are FAST. Most people are still in the dressing room and you are already hooked up and cleared for surgery". More pondering. Maybe it IS me. I am thinking I go at a normal pace. Well, normal for New Jersey anyway. Ok, where was I? Oh yes, these stupid rules.

So, my surgeon said no using the arm at all (his direct quote was "passive movement only") for 6-8 weeks. Now in my humble opinion he should have made more clear the definition of "passive". I took that to mean no weight bearing, no stress or resistence, right? Of course he meant that. So, on the fourth day when I retuned to have the stitches removed I asked if I could deep six the sling. Not exactly he advised, but I could take the arm out and rest it on my lap while sitting or standing if I was so inclined. And so I was. My therapy started week two. The therapists were shocked as most people with rotator cuff repairs don't start therapy until about the four week marker. I wanted to get the show on the road. As a matter of fact, the therapist, on the first day, just took information from me and advised that until she actually spoke to the surgeon to confirm that it was OK to start, we really couldn't do anything. More pondering. Did she actually think I faked the "admit slip" like I did in high school? The following Monday I got the green light to go...on the tenth day post surgery. Great...let's get this show on the road.

Now by this time, I am spending most of my days out of the sling and still taking pain meds but shoulder in pretty good shape. OK, I can tolerate some pain and pain there was, but that is why they make meds. I took them as I needed and continued to "exercise" my shoulder as I could with the opinion that the more the better, right? Who wants a stiff joint or muscle atrophy? Not me. Nope, not this chick. Nearing the third week when I was finally able to wash my hair with two hands in the shower, I could barely contain myself. When I got to therapy I was so excited I blurted out to my therapist Lisa, "Lis, guess what! I washed my own hair with BOTH hands today"...as I watched the color drain from her face and the look turn somber. Uh, not exactly the reaction I had hoped for. "Arrie!" she nearly yelled then regrouped and lowered her voice and said, "you don't mean you raised your hand over your head and actually did this (as she made frantic motions with her hands like she was car washing her head!)?"...I wanted to say no. Everything in me was saying, "say no....say no" but I couldn't. I muttered "uh huh". She took the chart and began writing. Now I have gone to enough therapists and doctors in my days to know when they get quiet and grab a chart and frantically start writing it is NEVER good. When she was done she said, "Passive movements means you do NOT engage the muscle at all. NO movement unless someone else is doing it for you". "oh" I muttered. I went on to explain what I took "passive" to mean. Needless to say, our therapy session was over before it began. She was unwilling to do anything until I saw my surgeon again, which coincidentally was the next day.

I got to the doctor's office and he walked in. "Hey, R. How's it going?" "Great, or so I thought" I said. He looked me square in the eye and said, "go ahead. Tell me what you did". (This coming from the doctor who told my sisters when they took me for surgery that I was not to drive for minimum four weeks and followed up with, "I know she will cheat"). I told him what I did and how crushed I was when I found out I was naughty. Who knew? Well, apparently everyone but me as I later found out in Bible study. He then advised SLING 24/7 for three more weeks and a possible MRI then as an MRI that day would only show inflamation and he could not see a new tear even if there was one. UGH. So, back in the sling I go for three more weeks. PS, I got hell at bible study (oops...see the irony in that statement) from several friends who knew the protocol for rehabbing a rotator cuff and saw me writing, eating and the like. I thought all this WAS passive and all this AFTER the last doc visit.

Ok, so they were NOT kidding me. I HAVE to rely on someone to do EVERYTHING for me. NO carrying anything. No getting dressed alone. No washing hair alone. No gardening. No hammering...sweeping, writing, eating right handed....NOTHING. And this is killing me. I have gained 10 pounds I am sure from the stress of having to sit around and watch everyone else do all the things I am supposed to be doing. Some day I will get it but it wasn't today. I lifted 2 twenty five pound bags of horse feed today before I felt that "ouch" and searched out some help for the other two bags. The phrase that rings in my head all day long is "you have to be kidding me"....

Nope, they aren't kidding me. Not at all. So two more weeks in the sling (oh, don't tell anyone that my arm is out of the sling to type this blog) and then we will hopefully get the green light to drive and move on to "partial assist" therapy.

Until next time...(oh...and that thing on the guys shoulder is a cryo cuff and yes, I lived with that thing for 7 days solid...that is EXACTLY what I looked like for the first week. And I lived in that chair as well!)

What's wrong with this picture!

A barn with no horse in it and a hose in someone else's barn! What's wrong with this picture! Other than everything...nothing! Ok, so this is the story of my life. We decide to move. To Chester that is. Notice we never made it to Chester. Nope. God had other plans. So, we moved from Long Valley to Long Valley, but the kicker is that our new home has a beautiful barn. I had two horses, but one has passed away, and the other we are paying to board somewhere else. Is that hysterical! We are PAYING SOMEONE ELSE to keep our horse when we have a beautiful barn AND a paddock, AND a ring and NO horse in it. For the money we pay someone else, we could use for food and keep him here. The benefit of boarding him somewhere else? I don't have to muck stalls twice a day and do turnouts every morning and each night. But, I don't have my boy here, either. I cannot ride when I want to (hhhmmm...not sure I could ride even if he WAS here right now....my arm is in a sling due to a recent surgery...well it SHOULD be in a sling right now, but then I cannot type....that's another story all together!).

Where was I? Oh yes...riding. No, barn. That's it. So I have done my research, have bids out on expanding the paddock, have cleaned the barn and it is ready for hay and of course, horses. I have been on a search for another Percheron. Actually I found one...Captain. The hitch is that he is in Ohio. Well, not a hitch for me, but is for Eric. $800 adoption fee (ridable - he is a rescue from being a carriage horse) and about $800 to ship him, but Eric is not on board with the whole thing. I don't really get it, but whatever.

So, this post is pretty much done. A horse and a barn....neither together. Someday soon I hope. Someday soon. Until next time...

My God...

I have been a believer for just over 10 years. The Lord has delivered me from many things in those ten years and has been ever so patient while this thick head and leather neck of mine, at times, refused to bend. But He redeems it all.

In the last nearly two years, I have gone thru some sort of funk where I find myself vascillating (more than usual) in my faith...to the point of actually a full sprint away in the last six months. In that time period, I have been gently whispered to by God, then gently nudged, then "shaken" if you will, then "warned" sternly that I was teetering on total disaster. During this time, He has allowed some health issues to arise, I would imagine in an attempt to get me to slow down and finally listen. I had an implant in my mouth that didn't take, so now I have to have another surgery to have another post implanted in my jaw...I had one ganglian cyst on my foot which prevented me from going to the gym, and now there are three. I have a kidney stone which caused some serious bleeding that now needs to be surgically removed because it is too large to pass. I tore my rotator cuff and had surgery three weeks ago and am unable to drive for 4-6 weeks. He even took my beloved horse, Karly, from me. One would think that all this would get me to slow down, repent, turn around and spend time home with my Lord, getting back to the only secure place I have ever stood in my entire life....but NNNNNNOOOOOOO. This Italian is too darn thick headed. So in a full sprint I ran....until Good Friday, April 2, 2010.

Now in an attempt to not bear my ENTIRE soul here for the world to read, let's just say that the culmination of all this ended with a bang. In my time running, I would still periodically be fairly close to Jesus, but not nearly where I used to be. I ran places I didn't even know I was capable of going to. I jumped in pits deeper than I could ever imagine going. One person once quipped, "Sin will always take you farther than you ever intended to go, keep you longer than you ever intended to stay, and cost you far more than you ever intended to pay".....and boy is that the truth.

See, the Lord makes this Christian walk quite simple...Know the Lord, follow his decrees and when we fall (and we ALL do), allow Him to dust you off and get right back on track. Pray, know His word and allow the power of HIS Spirit work within you. But people like me complicate matters. I often wonder....why He chose me. My best guess is that if we were all Billy Grahams or Martin Luthers, that would be no fun for Him. He must choose people like me, knowing the trouble I would cause, and knowing I would be a handful to "raise" up. But, for whatever His reason, He did choose me, and Lord knows....I HAVE BEEN A HANDFUL!

But I am an expert runner....queen of masquerade. And not just a sprinter, or short distance runner. I am a marathon runner. And I'm fast. Now, I clearly do not mean that literally....I can't even get out of my own way when it comes to running. But figuratively, I am a marathon runner. But He is faster than even me. And when He means business, He means business. And He FINALLY got my attention. Why am I writing all this? Because I just want everyone to know some things about the Lord.
1) He is bigger than any problem we could ever have
2) He will never let you go completely
3) He is long suffering in patience....even when you have been so far gone
4) His love never wavers
5) He will never leave you nor foresake you....He goes to the deepest pit WITH you.
6) He will protect you (and your family) if you let Him
7) When you trust Him, He will amaze you (if you just get out of His way and let HIM do the work - believe it or not - He is quite capable without MY help!)
8) He will mend the most broken heart and spirit!

So, everyone, when you think you are too far gone, used goods, not even capable of turning back, remember this...He will NOT stop until He has your FULL UNDIVIDED attention, and will shower mercy and grace upon you even at the bottom of the pit!

He is amazing like that. That pit stinks, a real stench. But it doesn't bother Him. He has told me recently, "I am tired of your running and you will not listen. This is my final warning...." and that did it. Then, to my amazement, once He had my attention, He whispered to me, "Now....are you ready to allow me to show you my love? Show you that you CAN trust me? Show you that YOU are ALL that matters to me? And Arrie....know that I never stopped loving you, not once. I can't. I am love. And you, Arrie, are the daughter of the King. Let me rebuild that broken spirit, but this time, I require simply one thing....an undivided heart".

So my friends, I am so lost that I don't even know where to begin. But He does. He will guide me. He has held my hand. He has showered grace upon grace on me. He has kept me....once again. And for me....where does that leave me? Lost, scared to death, tired from running, hurt, broken and empty. But that's all ok, because until we go to Him EMPTY, we cannot allow Him to fill us with what only He can.

So Father, it's finally You and me. Finally. Now, I will pray for a renewed spirit to keep me, energy to continue, and peace thru it. And the beauty of the entire mess? I know He will deliver every bit of that and more.

Until next time...

Karly - with a "K" That is, Ryan Day Karly Lyn to be exact....R.I.P....

Many of you already know, but for those who don't, much has happened over the last 12 months. I have not blogged much, but did tell you all about my blessed Karly (with a K). Unfortunately, on Saturday, March 13 - just two days before I had surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff - Karly died. She was a young and tender 13.

I got the dreaded call...."R, Karly is down. Hurry up and get here". I ran~ I was there in about 4 minutes...about as long as it took me to throw on my mucking boots and rain coat and speed there. It was POURING rain for the third day in a row and bitter cold. When I got there, there was only the barn owner's 18 year old son, Justin, keeping Karly on her feet. I took over. However, she was throwing me around - literally - like a rag doll. My sister Terri, Raechyl and I did our best to keep her on her feet. She would pull me anywhere she wanted while I desperately tried to keep her on her feet. 2000 pounds versus 140 pounds - you do the math. It was NOT pretty. You can't let a colicking horse go down...you walk them and walk them to prevent them from going down. This went on for over an hour until the owner and help arrived. The vet was not far behind. We had SO much medicine on board that she should have been paralyzed, but the pain was so intense it barely affected her. We had no choice but to race her to the hospital.

In the end, Karly lost the battle at nearly 9 pm that evening. It is something I could never describe to anyone what it is like to see a 2 ton creature that 6 hours ago was lively and fine covered in mud (my white horse) from head to toe, writhing in pain, unable to stand, lose the battle of her life. The 2000 pound nearly 19 hand beautiful white Karly staring me in the eye on the floor of the stall in the hospital begging me to make the pain stop....and I could do NOTHING but watch. I prayed, we medicated her with enough medication to put four horses out of pain and she still writhed in pain until she could finally take no more. And at about 9 pm that evening, she died.

She was my first horse. Yes, I have Buddy, but he is leased and isn't technically mine though we are all he knows...Karly and I took months, hours each and every day to build a friendship...a relationship where she could trust me. One where, in the end, she would come the minute she saw me in the pasture. One where she trusted me, and I trusted her. One where she knew I was hers, and she mine. One that, unfortunately, ended before it began. My Karly...gone.

I had her cremated. She is now in my living room, a small token of the first horse I ever actually owned...the first one I took the time each day with to build a trusting friendship that was give and take. She gave love like no other horse I know. Her giant black eyes. She would put her nostril up to my mouth to smell my breath...she would inhale long and stare right into my eyes as if to say, "Yup, it's you allright. The one I trust". I cut her mane that night. I have the braid on her box of ashes with a frame and three pictures of me and her. Me and my Karly.

Karly never did get to come home. Now, I look out back at my new house and see the barn that Karly should have called home. I see the pasture out side my house that Karly should be in. But the Lord did not see fit for that to be. I have learned these recent days that I must trust in the Lord. His plans are best. So for now, I have only a braid, a box and a frame to look at, but inside I have the love of a giant gently draft horse that changed this girls life forever.

My Karly....She is very sorely missed.

Until next time...