Have Patience and Endure - It's More Than Words, Living My Family Motto With an Exclamation Point
Opening Reflection:
There are moments on this journey that leave me breathless—not from pain, but from the weight of other people’s expectations pressing in. Just days ago, the attending physician came into my room with about six residents and told me, based on how I showed up at the emergency room before my recent spinal operation, that I was setting my expectations too high. That realistically, I should not expect to fully recover, that I’d likely always need help with basic living skills, and that a nursing home is probable.
Defining My Reality:
Hearing those words stung—deflated me, but didn’t defeat me. I am the expert on my own experience: my spirit, my will to fight, and my unique progress. Their clinical predictions are not a verdict on my destiny or the journey I’ve walked. But there I was, being handed a fate that he thought inevitable.
A Defiant Response:
I felt the sting—deflated, shaken, but not defeated. The very next day, I went down to physical therapy and had the opportunity to do something unexpected.
My usual physical therapist was on vacation, so I'd been working with whoever had openings each day. It was inconsistent, but it gave me the chance to connect with nearly the entire PT staff at the VA hospital. On this particular day, I worked with someone who wanted me to try the parallel bars—without being harnessed. I hadn't done this before, and I was apprehensive; it was far ahead of my treatment plan.
But I agreed.
Not because someone expected me to—because I believed I could. And if I'm being honest, I've always been stubborn and defiant when someone counts me out before the game is over.
Let's move ahead...
Quote of the Week:
“Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars."
—Khalil Gibran
Poetry Spotlight:
The poem I’m featuring this week, “Have Patience and Endure,” perfectly captures the spirit of this journey. Patience and endurance aren’t just about physical progress—they’re about facing moments when your control feels limited, about persistence, and about finding your own agency when circumstances try to define you.
Have Patience and Endure
by John Rushton
True Believer, Reluctant Skeptic, Intuitive Survivor:
Is it déjà vu, the Mandela Effect, or am I just losing my mind? Maybe it’s all those conspiracy theory podcasts—should I ditch the aluminum foil hat and tune out the signals from on high, or is A1 Atlas really my mothership coming to beam me home?
Get busy living, or wait around to die?
There’s a strange sense of déjà vu gripping me as I move through this new phase of recovery—memories flashing back to my first cervical spine surgery and the ordeal that followed. Back then, my body became a battleground for infection: osteomyelitis and pockets of pus latching onto my vertebrae, an uninvited staph stowaway demanding over 10 weeks tethered to IVs—vancomycin and cefepime—each day a gamble between hope and setback.
When I was finally discharged, it felt like freedom hard-won. I believed, for a moment, that we’d beaten the infection—that the war was over. But it wasn’t. A sudden fall—innocuous except for its timing—shattered that illusion, crushing my thoracic vertebrae and compressing my spinal cord. Paralysis swept into my legs and belly, and pressure wounds—stage four bed sores—compounded an already daunting recovery.
Now, as I navigate this new round of uncertainty, the frustrations mount—not just from the physical toll, but from not being heard. The infections that once defined my days are now almost invisible; yet, there’s no bloodwork to track markers, no tangible measures to prove or disprove the efficacy of the antibiotics still flowing through me. Once, vigilance was everything—now, it feels like my concerns echo into a void.
Overcoming Confirmation Bias With Emotional Resilience—A Lesson in Time-Tested Critical Thinking
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| Victim or Survivor? Your Choice |
There was a time when, in the face of setbacks, I fell into the tempting role of victimhood. It felt easy to point fingers at obvious culprits—those usual suspects I was certain had wronged me. My loaded index finger fired blame, but the villains never fell. In hindsight, those accusations landed nowhere, and I realized the only thing I truly had power to change was myself: my attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors.
Shifting my attitude was the simplest and most critical choice. That was the turning point—when my voice finally began to cut through the sighs of resignation and the silent “What’s he whining about now?” Instead of being dismissed, I began to be heard. Emotional resilience was born, not in comfort but in scrutinizing my own narratives and challenging my confirmation bias—the need to find evidence that fit my fears.
This journey—the one of recovery, setbacks, and rediscovering my voice—taught me that resilience is an active process. It’s the pause before reaction, the choice to respond after reflection and research. It’s advocating for myself in a language the medical team could not dismiss, backed by empirical evidence and personal resolve. Above all, it’s refusing to be defined by someone else’s prognosis, especially one made in less than three minutes of assessment.
I chose compassion over contempt for myself and others, and empathy over apathy. Emotional resilience isn’t just surviving adversity—it’s learning, adapting, and proving, step by hard-won step, that my story is my own.
In a world obsessed with speed and convenience, we’re quick to seek what’s familiar, to hold fast to beliefs that reinforce our view of ourselves (and others), and to ignore the deeper truths. Breaking free from this pattern demanded deliberate effort: pausing to examine uncomfortable realities, remaining open to change, and embracing growth over avoidance.
Closing Thoughts:
Random Question of the Week:
What's one moment in your own journey—big or small—when trusting your own instincts made all the difference? Or, if you prefer: When have you found yourself questioning expert advice - and how did you decide what was right for you?
I'd love to hear your stories. Share your thoughts and experiences in the comments below—I read every comment, and your voice matters here!
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