This week I was reminded of how precious is our health, no matter the state of it. And how precious the spirit of people can be.

On Monday morning I was cleaned, scrubbed, dressed for work. I tossed my heavy backpack over my shoulder and stepped over the child gate like I have done every workday for the last two years.

Three seconds later I was fighting to stay conscious.

Somehow I slipped or tripped, can’t recall. But I fell, and in trying to keep from falling, my right hand grabbed the open doorway and got twisted way too far back.

My left arm reached back but found nothing to grab. Then my body swiveled round, I completely lost my footing, and that’s when my jaw and mouth met the door jamb of the other bedroom.

I weigh about 170 lbs. My backpack clocks in at about 30 lbs. I was moving pretty quickly since I was falling. So basically I got punched in the chin very very hard with a wooden post while my arms were stretched behind me.

It HURT.  It hurt on collision, and as I awoke a few seconds later, it hurt as I slid down the door jamb. And I knew something was on fire in that spot between my shoulder blades as I hit the ground. I wanted to scream but my daughter and her son were sleeping in a nearby room.

Thankfully nothing was broken, sprained, or concussed :D. The Good Lord saw fit to let my big jaw take the brunt of the blow and not my nose or eye sockets. That would have been very bad.

Took the day off work. Didn’t feel comfortable making big decisions (not that mine make much of a diff, heh) but mostly because suddenly my arms and hands had aged like 30 years.

And suddenly, like putting on a new pair of glasses, I “saw” what it’s like to live with chronic, invisible pain.  I’ve never been one to belittle those who deal with ongoing, acute pain that shows no visible sign of manifestation. But sympathy and empathy are different beasts.

On Monday morning I couldn’t raise my arms above my head.  Pain, heat, and pinpricks everywhere. But the troublesome bit was the complete stubbornness of my body as it refused to obey the order to raise  even one hand above shoulder level.

By that afternoon, I could move my arms freely, if by “free” you mean, “it feels like fire when you do THAT”

The evening was a mess.

I had thankfully saved some prescription-strength ibuprofen from a fall I’d taken while  roller skating (yes still a kid at heart) and that helped.

By Tuesday morning the fire was gone, replaced by sensations of tingle and bone-numbing cold. Like the feeling one has when one’s arms wake up after falling  asleep. That lasted all day, lessening in intensity over time.

At bedtime, I prayed the evening rest would speed  up the healing, and thanked God for healing powers placed in our selves.

That’s when my heart went out  to those who can’t say the same thing. Those who’s issues don’t lessen over time. Those who go to sleep (or try to) knowing that tomorrow won’t bring a freshened, renewed state.

At that point is when I honestly wept.  And thought about and prayed for my family and friends travelling on that road.

Today there is no pain. Just numbness and weakness. And that will pass.

But what won’t pass is the memory of three days of living someone else’s life.

One where my sense of time is lost, because I am focused on simple tasks like opening up a food wrapper or tying shoes and pushing back the feeling of needles ripping through the skin.

One where someone asks, “are you all right?” in word or silent stare when I can’t push myself out of a chair or lift a glass of water because I’m too weak but am embarrassed to ask for help.

One where the joyful leap of my grandson into my arms brings tears to my eyes, but not out of happiness.

One where my usually sprawling handwriting is now nearly unreadable because I’ve lost the fine motor skills needed to write. These would be the same motor skills used to button my shirt sleeves.

For those who live this life daily, I salute and pray and send good thoughts your way. When you are grumpy, short tempered, irritated, or just lost in your thoughts, I kind of know why.

And when you are nice, and kind, and graceful, I will be humbled.  And thankful for your ability to smile and persevere through the pain no one can see.