I’ve been looking at the same red wall opposite my couch for days on end.
It’s a good thing I like the red wall.
To the people who have noticed I’m gone, I say, “I’m just under the weather.”
I don’t like questions.
I like giving answers even less.
My private heart closes the sunflower curtains on hours like these. When those hours turn into days, and the days into weeks, I don’t know what to do. I can’t be vaguely “under the weather” forever.
There is a deeper truth.
I haven’t gotten dressed in 7 days. I haven’t been able to put jeans on this body in over 3 weeks, because the pain is too much.
My Complex Regional Pain Syndrome is a nerve disorder that causes my central and peripheral nervous systems, immune system and blood vessels to malfunction. More or less, this basically means anytime something minor goes wrong with my body, it turns into something more major and unrelenting. This week, it called me into the operating room for my second surgery in the last 3 months, where I was told I’ll be needing a third within the next few months if I want the hope of getting a handle on an internal problem that just won’t heal thanks to a crippled immune system.
This problem causes pain like I’ve never had.
Pain that leaves me here, facing a red wall, in pajamas again early on a Thursday night.
My body aches, but my heart aches more.
My wedding is in 15 days.
In 15 days, I’ll be walking down that barn aisle to pledge my love and life.
In 15 nights we’ll be getting into that car to drive away on a two week adventure of a lifetime through states, forests, deserts and mountains.
We’ve been waiting for this…
and I haven’t worn pants in 3 weeks.
The wedding prep has already been severely impacted because my mobility has consisted of walking from my room to the couch and from my couch to my room for more days than I can count. My family has taken over everything, sending me pictures of the decorations they’re hand making, coming to visit me with ideas and their latest creations, working until long after the sun goes down to see that somehow, miraculously, this barn wedding of 160 people will all come together. Without their help, this wedding simply wouldn’t be able to happen right now, and I know it.
Most people don’t.
In truth my friends (for if you’re reading this, that is what you are), I am afraid. I’ve made my peace with this body, but I can’t make peace with the idea of it taking this time away from me. This time is mine. This time is his. This time is ours.
Dear God, give us this time.
I’ve tried to hide this part of myself away and hope that no one will notice. I’ve hoped that life will continue on without missing a beat, that my song will continue on more or less uninterrupted and everyone around me will be able to just keep dancing. But lately, lately my song just won’t stop skipping. I’m missing hangouts, church, lots of work, weddings…and I’ve been specifically asking the people closest to me to give no explanations as to why. My business. My health. My life. My stupid stubborn heart.
Well, here it is. The ugly truth. The dark red wall staring me right in the face day after repetitive day.
Those 15 days are disintegrating. My heart has been kindling a deep glow for this coming moment for so long, so many moments and years of experiences have been leading up to this day where we’ll finally stand together before God, our friends and our family to officially begin this new journey.
This journey as husband and wife.
I want to walk down that aisle pain free.
Please God, let this body keep up with this heart.
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