My daughter told me a story about myself the other day. It involved my time in the hospital years ago, just after I had become more coherent. The guy in charge of the church services during my absence was in the hospital room and I apparently told him that I was certain that I would be ready to take charge of the worship services on the upcoming Sunday. At the time I had been kept unconcious for over a week and I had been put through roughly a dozen surgeries. I was physically unable to get out of bed for any reason and I was unable to function physically in any practical way. I could barely speak coherently because my mind was in a drug induced haze and my jaw was wired shut. My daughter said that he gave me a quiet "alright" sort of answer and things moved on. I was obviously not in my right mind, but part of the problem must have stemmed from the fact that I never really think that I'm down for the count in anything that I do. I checked with that same guy the other day to make certain that my daughter wasn't messing with me, and he confirmed that the story was true.
My body continues to hinder me to this day, and I continue to do things without thinking about my body too much until I've finished each task. I really can't afford to focus on the hindrances that are caused by the aftereffects of my motorcycle accident injuries. Life is for living, and living doesn't always need to yield itself to every physical limit. I don't care if I have to pay one day for the things that I do. I'd rather be perfectly happy than partially comfortable.
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