Side Note: I often reflect on a terrible time in life (mine or others) by wrapping it in positives. I think it’s in part how I process it all.

This time it was hard to make my positivity sandwich. It started more than a year ago. My misdiagnosed tendonitis would bring me to my knees. Turns out I broke my collarbone at the shoulder joint. By the time I had gotten myself to an orthopedic surgeon I was missing an inch of it. I know what your thinking… If I hadn’t seen the x-ray myself I would think I’m crazy too.

The confirmation that I was actually broken (and it was not all in my head) came as a relief. Yes my heart filled with joy knowing I had broken a bone. Has anyone ever looked you dead in the eye and called you a liar… Me neither, but when the words, “Buck up it’s not that bad” came out of the PTs mouth, I felt like he did just that… jerk. The blind trust I had for a so called professional quickly became a life lesson. I know me best, not anyone else. Always go with my gut.

Who would have thought a year plus of chronic pain could leak into ones total being and chip away at it. It started as a slow drip and ended as a raging waterfall of what I can only describe as awful. With that said, I have a whole new respect for folks who live with incurable chronic pain.

The last six weeks before surgery were a struggle. I was irritable with a short fuse. Tired, because the pain didn’t allow me to sleep. I thought I was loosing my mind. I was sad, unfocused and over caffeinated. I often felt confused, unable to keep a thought in my head. The last two weeks before surgery I was the kind of depressed that lead my thoughts to death. I cried more tears from the depression than from the pain.

Scary, for so many reasons.

Flash forward, waking up in recovery at the surgical center with my zombie arm, the awesome nerve block was to thank for that, I felt a relief I hadn’t before. The hope of “no more pain” rushed back into my life. My nurses all said how cheery I was and how quickly I was up and ready to go home. I couldn’t help but over share how excited I was to get my shit fixed and be in a new kind of light at the end of the tunnel pain. I couldn’t thank them all enough that day. They mentioned they wished more of their patients were as excited to get fixed as I was. I wished them the same, can’t be easy dealing with us cranky, depressed, broken people.

Nine days later I’m feeling like myself again. My break is fixed and healing nicely. I’ve gotten back my happy and have been sleeping like a baby without pain killers. I can remember tons more stuff and haven’t cried once. Woo!

To know we have it good sometimes we need to know the bad. I’m thanking my lucky stars I have another chance at the good.