In the Divine Comedy Dante described 9 circles of hell. He miscounted; there are actually 10 circles. I know this because I’m at the tenth circle. It’s a peculiar place inhabited by those of us with various infirmities that aren’t life-threatening but carry a pain level (on a scale of 1-10) of 3,895.
Having been on the injured reserve list for a week now, it was time yesterday for a follow-up visit to the Dr. This Dr. is part of a large practice as I discovered when I hobbled through the door and was met by a veritable sea of the aged, crippled and infirm. Ah-ha — the 10th circle holds those with walkers, canes, splints, slings and numerous bandages. One poor guy had metal rods screwed into his arm visible to all. This was not Disney World, but Dante’s World. All semblance of cheer left me in that room. What made me smile was when I realized I looked just as crappy as the rest of them. I couldn’t wait to get home!
Home is where you can look like crap to your heart’s content. Home is where the comfy chair and the old quilt welcome you. Home is where Devoted Spouse makes cheese and pickle sandwiches because you can’t open the jar of pickles by yourself. Home is where the drugs are and drug time is a good thing (short term). Home is where your little puppy girl won’t leave your side and keeps licking your sling to make it better. Home is where it doesn’t matter that your socks don’t match and you put your sweatpants on backwards — it was a minor miracle you put them on by yourself at all.
In this one short week of recovery there have been little failures and a few minor victories. I will keep slogging through this and try to retain my sense of humor. I remarked to one of my pastors a few weeks ago that I thought God was trying to teach me humility. Okey dokey there Big Guy, can I have a pass and get this over with quickly? I’d really like to get my hair done soon.