And so the Israelites decided to make a statue of a cow–because who doesn’t like a burger, and they’re so cute in the Chic-Fil-A ads. And they held up the golden cow and said, “Hey! Israel! You know how much it sucked in Egypt? This statue fixed all that for you, so you owe it your, mind, heart and soul.” Exodus 32:7-10 (NRCE–New Revised Chris Edition)
As I’ve detailed here in agonizing detail, I was diagnosed last year with Myalgic Encephalomyelitis (aka Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). I got my ass kicked every day for the better part of a year. And I worked on a project from hell at work. And my boss died. And all kinds of other stupid crap–except stronger–hit the fan.
Seriously, the weekend my daughter graduated from college, I had to work right up until the point the flight was supposed to leave–airport wifi and all. Then we got delayed because of rare May rain. Then we got in very late and all the luggage came off the carousel–except mine. And then the called me. Apparently, Southwest Airlines has a wood chipper at Tampa International and my suitcase fell into it.
Then we got to the hotel–which was fairly nice. Keep in mind, I was exhausted. And though I started work at 7, I got to bed around 1. The next day was nice until we went to bed. I got up in the night to go to the bathroom and stepped into about an inch of water. The toilet had overflowed and flooded our room.
I didn’t go to the actual graduation because my daughter wanted me to go to the party after. I watched the graduation on the Internet. When I got to the party, apparently I looked like an extra from The Walking Dead. Monday morning, I worked from the airport. By the time I got home, the dog lost this mind in the office and destroyed almost everything in the closet.
And that wasn’t the worst set of days for the year.
I got through it. We went live with the project from hell. And the software was buggy as hell. The users weren’t thrilled. Ask me how I know.
And then I had to go on partial disability. And then the insurance denied my partial disability claim. So I couldn’t work, because the doctor said no. And I couldn’t get paid because the insurance company said no. And then I got a stress fracture in my foot. Then I got a nerve issue in my foot. It was frigging awesome.
Eventually, we won the insurance appeal. Eventually I recovered. I even ran quite a bit this spring, until I messed up my Achilles Tendon.
At the end of it, I stood in the mirror and beheld the guy who was just too stupid or too stubborn or too tough to give in. Here is your God, Chris, who got you through the crapstorm. You owe him everything.
The idol in the mirror.
Fact of the matter is, I’m not entirely sure what I had. And I have no idea why I recovered. If it’s ME, then every day is a bonus, because if I crash again, odds aren’t good for another recovery.
During my struggle, there were vast tracts when I thought I was alone. That’s an insult to my family, friends, and a very special co-worker.
Even more, given my beliefs, it’s an insult to God.
I won’t say he has a plan. I wouldn’t say it to you if the same happened to you and I won’t say it to me. Sometimes shit happens. God isn’t Santa. He won’t apply magic to everything just so I have it easy. But when the shit flies, he’ll stand next to me. He’ll never leave me alone.
And in this case, there was a recovery.
What arrogance to assume that was all me.
And how much harder did I make it because I assumed it was all me.