The last time I had a steroid injection specifically for a muscle related inflammation was 25+ years ago. While I am fuzzy on the the exact date, the events vividly replay in my mind. The sequence is distinctly etched in my memory. Shot, a mild sting, feel a sense of falling away, say something to the doctor, vivid dreams in absolute darkness, and a slow awakening with no sense of the shot, where I am or the faces I am looking at. The slow awakening always has the gentle touch of a woman that reminds me that I am protected, cared for, and belong.
On my return to the present then, I came face to face with a worried doctor, smelling salts, and a calm nurse who was totally in control.
A trip to the doctor’s office for an injured wrist brought the old memory into the present. While the set-up, falling away, face into blackness with vivid dreams and return initially guided by a woman’s touch were the same, I woke to something different.
Although I had no idea who the faces and voices belongs to, I intuitively trusted the gentle, calm, and in control expressions and voice that I realized later was my doctor. He guided me and the nurse through the process as I always imagined a compassionate and loving god would.
I am again reminded how short life is. Any event may be our last. I heave the complaints; “Remember my sorrow and how short life is. Did you create men and women for nothing but this?” (Psalm 89.47) While they ring true, the fresh experience of checking out reminds me struck by the following.
Life is a gift. Short, long, easy, hard, predictable or anything but. It was, is and will always be a gift.
Life is fragile. Big events and small carry the chance that it may be our final experience. This include the intersections of our lives with others (relationships).
Life is meant to be lived. Seizing the moment, every moment, is a universal calling.
I am back, living.
