Life’s Unexpected Potholes
Life’s highway is awesome when you’re just living the dream, right? Cruising along like Lightning McQueen in the movie Cars, music blasting, and then BAM! You hit a pothole and everything changes. That was me for almost 2 years.
It all started at the end of 2022 when my hand and forearm began bothering me. I brushed it off for a few months, thinking it was just the usual cerebral palsy aches and pains. But it didn’t go away and got so bad that I couldn’t type or drive without pain. Finally, I went to the doctor, who sent me to an orthopedic specialist, who sent me to another.
In a quick 45-minute appointment, the orthopedic dropped a bomb: “Glenn, your neck is deteriorating. You need to stop working, retire, and focus on your physical health.” Whoa, hold up! It wasn’t that cut and dry. I didn’t have just one consultation and just quit. I saw several doctors beforehand. This particular doctor had professional and academic experiences that the others did not have. He did his residency in a clinic who specifically treated people with cerebral palsy. So, I did what the doctor ordered, a week later I tendered my resignation and left my 25-year career, and started physical therapy.
Three months of neck and arm exercises later, my therapist said, “It’s not your neck. You should get tested for carpal tunnel.” Seriously? That’s it? By then, it was mid-April. It took until late May to see my neurologist and get tested for carpal tunnel. The results? Yep, serious carpal tunnel in my dominant hand. Great… I guess? Better than my neck… right?
After dealing with insurance, I finally had surgery in mid-August. The hand specialist said I’d be good as new in 2 months. Yeah, right. It took way longer to recover from that tiny incision. I guess cerebral palsy doesn’t help with healing. It was 4 months before I could do short quick trips and 6 months before I could fully drive again. My hand is not like it was before the pothole. It’s different, neither good nor bad. Just a new normal.
The point of all this isn’t to talk about surgery, but about what I learned. Before, my self-worth was tied to being my family’s transportation. Taking my wife to work and my son to school was my identity. Having my wife getting into a Uber with a stranger really troubled me and having friends and family take our son to and from school angered me. I’m dad, I should be the one. Being dependent on others was tough.
But I realized that just being present and trying your hardest to be positive is what truly matters. So, to all the parents and spouses out there with disabilities, don’t sweat the potholes. There’s always a smoother road ahead.
