When I wrote about my fall in “The Wrong Shoes” this past September, I had no idea I would still be suffering from my injuries five months later. After icing my shoulder and keeping it in a sling for a few weeks, I began using my arm for simple tasks. Although my range of motion was limited, and any reaching, lifting more than a few pounds, or accidentally rolling over in my sleep, would cause me to cry out, since I wasn’t in continuous pain, I thought my injuries were improving.
But the past few weeks, every time I went through a gymnastic routine, complete with “Ouch! Ouch! OWWWWW! sound effects in order to force my arm into some kind of position which didn’t feel like it was being repeatedly stabbed, every time I changed clothes, it was obvious that my injury was getting worse instead of better.
Since I don’t have health insurance, I began to pray for God to give me a message or a miracle. He answered with both. The message rang loud and clear last week when a loud crack, resulting in my screaming/yelling brought my father from the other room.
The following morning, when Dad told the chiropractor that the cracking sound from my shoulder sounded like a bullet went off, I thought to myself, “Yep! That’s pretty much how it felt!” After looking at my x rays, the chiropractor informed me that he couldn’t help me, handed me an x ray (see picture below), and told me to take it to an orthopedic doctor right away because I might need surgery. Not exactly what I wanted to hear,
My miracle began last night at a Single’s Bible study, when one of the men suggested I go to his chiropractor before continuing to take steps toward seeing an orthopedic doctor. Today, when I went for my appointment, not only did I discover that this brother in the Lord had made arrangements to help me pay some of the expenses, his chiropractor specializes in rodeo injuries.
Apparently, when I fell in September, I tore ligaments which resulted in both my clavicle and my humerus being displaced. The chiropractor said he could reset both, but it would be painful since tissue would have to be torn. I assured him I had a high pain tolerance and remarked how I had even had 4 children with out pain killers. Ummm—can you say “childbirth revisited?!” Since I almost passed out when the Good Doc reset the shoulder, we decided I shouldn’t attempt to deliver twins and set an appointment for next week to set the clavicle.
Although today’s experience was painful (that’s an understatement), and I will be hugging an ice pack and popping Aleve and Tylenol for awhile, I am so excited and I feel so incredibly blessed that I won’t be needing surgery! I am also amazed how the Lord provided and led me to someone who is used to resetting shoulders. I might also add that when I returned home, I opened a belated Christmas card that arrived from a friend in Washington. The card contained forty dollars—the exact amount needed for my next appointment. Yes, Lord! Your love, protection, and provision continue to amaze me!