| So I'm now the one armed man. Here's the scoop: I was benching with my dad a while back, no big deal, we lift all the time. I had been a little inconsistant lately and had some soreness in my left chest but figured it was from my inconsistantcy and I just needed to lift through it. Well, that was wrong. I was maxing out and as I went to push up my chest just crunched, good thing my dad and I are good lifters because he pulled it off me immediantly. I knew I had done something, but again figured I could take some time off, keep it iced and in a few weeks try to lift again. Then, when I went to lift, we all noticed that my chest muscle was moving a way it isn't supposed to. It was quite odd looking, so I cracked and had it look on. Doc said it had tore from shoulder and was now all bundled up on the bottom of my chest, which made it bigger, but I knew it was much weaker. He warned that if I didn't do anything I'd lose about 30% of my strength and have a deformity, and if I did it I would lose anywhere from 15%-25% of my strength, but at least I'd look normal. So I prayed over it and thought about it, knowing God was able to just fix me if He willed. But as I thought on it I was led to a few scritpures that said we must suffer for Christ, we must heed chastisement, and I realized why I was lifting so heavy was for pride's sake. I promised the Lord I would never lift again to boast of my strength, but just to stay healthy, and I plan to keep that promise. After the surgery yesterday, and from almost passing out because of the IV (yeah, I hate needles and veins and stuff), and being drugged up with probably a gallon of morphine, I was back with my dad and he said the doctor attached my ligament back to my shoulder but then notice that part of my muscle wasn't even attached to the ligament! So he attached that as well, and said it would have been more like 50% loss of strength, so praise the Lord. On my way out, they had me try to eat some to get some strength, and right before I was about to leave, BLAK all over the floor, and I was the last patient. Poor last lady. But I got home, ate some pizza that I was sooo craving, and been sleeping/praying/reading pretty much nonstop since I Can't really do much else (well and type, got some homework too). I want to thank all those who prayed and are praying. It's God grace it went so well and He led it and is teaching me from it. Pride is a horrible thing, and I'm glad that my Lord counts me worthy to continually beat it out of me. Now I want my arm healed because I can't raise both arms or play my guitar, and thats my life to praise the Lord, but I know He understands. Pray for my continued repair which to use my arm again will be four weeks, to lift chest about four months, and that all the glory will go to Jesus. It was funny though, when I woke up in the recovery room, the first thing I did was raise my hand and start thanking the Lord (not even realizing where I was), and I think they were worried for a minute but then one of them said I was probably dreaming so they let me alone to praise the Lord. :) God is just so good my friends |
