Several things in life tend to repeat themselves. History, clothing trends, home décor, and Stephanie’s doctor’s appointments are just a few of those things. Metaphorically speaking, my journey was starting to feel like the directions on a bottle of shampoo. Lather, rinse, repeat. Visit with the doctor, get bad news, repeat. (Seeing that history repeats itself, it was sort of like I was making history.J)
I made it through back to school meetings and the first three days of school. Then I spent the weekend recovering. My pain levels had went up since starting back to work, so it was my hope to get them under control through the weekend. The stress of the new school year, getting used to working all day, and being off and on my feet were playing a huge part in my pain level. Even though I’d been diagnosed with CRPS, I had really hoped tendon repair surgery would magically take away my pain or at least ease it. As the weekend sped by, my mind was focused on resting, getting ready for my appointment the following week, and getting ready for the school week.
To say I was anxious would be an understatement. But deep down I knew. I knew what the appointment would bring. Trying to deny it, was hard. Being honest with myself was even harder. The appointment came and went just as usual. Mimicking the directions on a shampoo bottle. Work, get pulled off work, repeat. This time, though, it felt different. The doctor assessed my incision and pain level. He then spoke the words that shook me to my core. “I’m going to have you work for only 4 hours a day now.” As I stared directly back at him, tears filled my eyes. Just as before, I asked him how a teacher is supposed to only be at school for 4 hours a day. To that, he had no answer. There was nothing else for me to say. Maybe this was my “sign” it was time to give up, to surrender. As always, my knight in shining armor (Steve) was there to pull me together.
As we left the appointment, something did feel different. This time I was losing the will to fight. Fighting to get my life as a teacher back. Fighting to get myself back to my “normal.” As tears rolled down my face, Steve’s hand took mine and he did what he could to lift me up and comfort me. I was quiet all the home and needed some time to think. How in the world could a teacher only work 4 hours a day? How could that be good for kids? How could that be good for a school? Was that best for me? I sat in silence for quite a while not knowing what to say or how to tell everyone. Emotions took over. They went from being sad, to being mad, to feeling a great sense of guilt. Sometimes crying it out is helpful. And that’s just what I did.
Eventually, my pity party ended. (I think we all deserve to have them every once in a while.) I knew what I had to do. Working only 4 hours a day was going to add to my stress level. Not to mention, I really wasn’t myself while at school anyway. The students and staff deserved better. Also, who knew what would happen at my next doctor’s appointment. If my experiences in the past were any indication, it could mean even more hours taken away. I realized I needed to be honest. It was time to put myself first. My health first. I wanted to be at school with every fiber of my being, but it was literally causing me more pain.
By afternoon, Steve and I had made a decision. It was time for me to resign. (Just typing those words makes my stomach turn.) My hope was to use the time off to figure out how to deal with the pain and try to heal. Hopefully, without the stress and worry of school, I could slow down and take the time I needed to learn how to live with and control the CRPS pain. Resigning was one of the hardest, if not the hardest, decisions I have ever made. I felt like I was giving up and surrendering. And I was definitely NOT rising up against all odds. Now my identity as a teacher would be gone. (I realize I’m being a bit dramatic, but that was how I felt right then.)
Although the next several months would be filled with more appointments, I could now relax knowing they wouldn’t be like the directions on a shampoo bottle. At least that’s what I thought. I did believe God had gotten me this far, and I knew He’d continue to be with me as I mourned the loss of my teaching self. I’d made a tough decision, but I was at peace. Simply knowing He had a plan for me kept me believing there was something better ahead and the best was yet to come.
Inside Invisible Illness 