By Nancy Patrick

Those of you who know me personally know that for many years I have experienced various problems with my muscular-skeletal health. It actually started twenty-five years ago when I developed a painful condition called De Quervain’s tenosynovitis requiring surgery in Lubbock.

 Then I realized I had carpel tunnel syndrome in both hands. On top of that, my knees began wearing out, requiring a double knee replacement in 2020. At the same time, my spine began showing signs of degeneration. I had already undergone microdiscectomy on my lower back to relieve stenosis.

My orthopedic specialists became my primary care physicians! The spine required a fusion a couple of years ago; rehab for that surgery took almost a year. Shortly after feeling like maybe the worst had passed, I fell flat on my back, fracturing the L2 vertebrae just above the fusion.

The point of this essay, though not to bemoan the pain and limitations caused by this degenerative disease, is to consider some viewpoints I have had to excavate during the past two decades of my physical “maturation.”

I grew up in a family that worked very hard—and I mean physical labor. My dad had little formal education, so he spent his working life as a laborer. He worked in many capacities, beginning as a gas station attendant at the age of fourteen.

He spent his last thirty years working in the lawn sprinkler business in Abilene. That is hard, hot, dirty work. My dad measured a person’s worth by the kind of work he or she did. I remember the highest compliment he ever paid me consisted of this short statement: “You work like a man.” 

I tried very hard to live up to that standard in addition to having a career as an English teacher. I worked at my job, in my yard, in my church, and filled in with part-time work during the summers. I felt that relaxing or enjoying leisure time made me a slacker.

Known as a go-getter, an Energizer bunny, a workaholic, and a perfectionist, you can imagine my consternation as I now contemplate a new lifestyle that will most likely not allow me as much physical activity as I have always had!

I now find myself comparing the value of physical labor to the value of more sedentary contributions. Instead of mowing and trimming the yard, I take drinks out to my husband as he does the work. My job has become hydrating him while he sweats in the hot Texas sun.

I did all my own housework for fifty years, but now I find I cannot do many household chores because of pain limitations. Instead of doing all the work myself, I hire a service to clean for me. Although I felt terribly guilty at first, I have decided that paying these cleaners for their work is a worthy contribution to society.

My husband now shares almost all the chores and duties that formerly belonged to me alone. He assures me that helping me does not burden him—that marriage is a partnership shared by both people.

At my age, many of my peers are dying (in our seventies) while many others live well into their eighties and nineties. I find my mind contemplating end-of-life activities such as sorting through things to leave to my son and granddaughter. 

Then I feel that my negative attitude may pull my husband down to my level. He isn’t at the same end-of-life thoughts that I am, so he wants me to make plans for the future—what to do and where to go. 

During these depressing days when I find it difficult to make plans or get excited, I know that I need to lean on God. I need to appreciate all the prayers my friends send to God on my behalf. I need the awareness of the good things done by many good people for the many people in need all around us.

As we continue to face negative national politics and controversial international involvements, I need to look to God as the director of the human story that unfolds during my time on stage. Many acts preceded mine, and many others will follow, but God remains omnipresent, so time is irrelevant to Him. 

When I taught high school English, I used to give my students an end-of-year “gift” as they left my classroom. It was a copy of the document Desiderata, a piece of wisdom written by Max Ehrmann in 1927 (https://www.desiderata.com/desiderata.html).  

The lines that comfort me in my dark days say, “And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.” I must remind myself that God is God and I am not.

Nancy Patrick is a retired teacher who lives in Abilene and enjoys writing