Last week I finally got my finger out of the splint it had been in for 8 weeks prior. It was a wonderful moment if only for the fact I could now shower without putting my hand in a plastic bag. It was a rather daunting experience though as for 8 weeks I was not allowed to bend the final joint on my finger (or I'd have to start the 8 weeks again). So when it came out of the splint and my OT said bend it, I was a little hesitant.
How did I hurt it in the first place I hear you ask? (I know you didn't ask but play along for me). I hurt it by catching a ball. It was a very simple thing. I caught the ball cleanly except that it gently flicked the end of my middle finger. It didn't hurt and I didn't notice anything was wrong until I took the goalkeeping glove I was using off. I then noticed that it was at right angles to the rest of my finger and I couldn't straighten it. I have a photo if you'd like to see it.
The truth is that even though my finger was out of shape it didn't hurt. After I got the splint off and I was asked to use it again, my finger hurt a bit but I found myself incredibly uncomfortable with it.
I realised that it would have been easier and less confronting for me to simply leave my finger with a tip that was lame. It caused me no pain and with a simple cosmetic piece of tape I could have it look like everything was fine. Instead I was immobilised for 8 weeks and left with an uncomfortable and confronting amount of rehabilitation to do.
As I thought of this dynamic I realised that my finger was representative of my life. I know it sounds corny but my attitude towards my finger is exactly how I feel about all of my pain.
It is easier for me to live with my dysfunction because it causes me no great deal of pain. In fact the thought of being immobilised for a time followed by a painful, uncomfortable and confronting rehabilitation scares the life out of me. My heart has been bent out of shape more severely than my finger and I have become very comfortable cosmetically covering it with a variety of 'tape'. The truth is that my heart suffered a great deal of pain when it was wounded and I am petrified of the amount of pain and discomfort a rehabilitation would create. I am rendered spineless by the reality of facing and returning to that pain.
Maybe Groucho was simply being insightful. As I have days where I feel as though life lays the cheese that is the fear of the depth of my pain and asks are you a man or a mouse?
My response?
I eat the cheese and scamper back to my hole in the wall wondering whether one day I will be a man again.
Fear should never dictate action. One day the Holy Spirit will help me find the strength to stand on that....one day.
