PT #4: May the 4th Be With You Meets the Wonder

Physical Therapist Jill again emphasized that therapy and their prescribed exercises will not fix Righty's outer wrist issue. The bone healed slightly slipped, and therapy can't change that. Her words "will not fix" contain the power to bring me down.

So now begins the wonder. It is a web of too many thoughts. Twelve years ago I experienced it after hearing the doctor's poignant word "Virulent": "I wonder, I wonder..." will I survive surgery? how will chemo affect my body? will cancer return? will I make it to the 5-year mark?

Wonder thoughts are natural. And some of them even enter into the courageous category: "I wonder, I wonder..." what will my funeral be like? Not because of my wrist, but 12 years ago, before cancer surgery, I mentally spent about 30 minutes visiting my imagined funeral. At first it terrified me, but then I became more comfortable. Just briefly visiting terror and then moving on gave me courage to face the wonder. I am a survivor.

Before working with Physical Therapists Jill or Matt, a technician always leads me to heat therapy that lasts 20 minutes. My hand is put into a large and contained, sand-filled barrel or vat. I slip Righty into the vat's sealed sleeve, it is turned on, and a wind tunnel of heated sand transports me to a Star Wars scene with one sweet and round BB-8 droid spinning effortlessly over the sand. Or, I visit sunny Florida with seagulls and crashing beach waves.

Sitting next to me yesterday was a young Mom trying to visit Florida. I interrupted her beach time asking questions about her wrist fracture. It all began with the Winter Olympics; her two young children wanted to ice skate; Mom skated too; Mom helped daughter to not fall; Mom instead ended up falling on the ice. A plate and screws adhered her painfully shattered wrist back together. The doctors gave her the wonder word: Arthritis.

I can't help but wonder, and even more so, I can't help but feel conformed to the full-of-Wonder One. He transports me to the realm of faith, and humility, and trust, and wonder. I am not entitled to full healing, but Righty is placed into His very capable hands for a sequel that is not limited by a stubborn slipped arm bone.

May the Force be with you, and may He be with Righty... and with planning for my family's first reunion in more than 25 years. Wish it was on the beach!