If your surgery is coming up next week and you feel like your emotions are all over the place… you’re not alone.
I’ve been there. I remember that final week countdown before my second knee replacement. I had done it before, and I knew I was going to be okay. But even with that knowledge, my body started reacting in ways I couldn’t ignore. I found myself deep cleaning, organizing random things, and staying busy just to avoid what I was really feeling.
What I realized later was this: my nervous system knew something big was about to happen. Even though I kept telling myself “I’m fine,” my body was processing what my mind hadn’t fully acknowledged yet.
Read more...
I know what you might be thinking—rejoice? In this pain?
Trust me, I’ve asked the same thing.
Trust me, I’ve asked the same thing.
After my knee replacement, I had days when I sat in my recliner with tears in my eyes and a body that just... ached. My knee throbbed, the scar was red and angry, and I barely recognized the body I was living in.
Sleep was scarce. Independence felt distant. And if you had handed me this verse on one of those days? I probably would’ve set it down gently… or not so gently.
But one morning, I read these words in Jesus Calling by Sarah Young:
Read more...
If you’re facing knee replacement surgery, chances are you’ve already said the words: I’m terrified. I’m petrified. I’m scared out of my mind. Those are heavy words. And they’re real. The truth is, most of that fear comes down to one thing — the unknown.
Nobody really prepares you for the mental and emotional side of this surgery. Your surgeon will tell you what the procedure involves. Your physical therapist will walk you through exercises. But who sits you down and says, “Hey, let’s talk about the fear you’re carrying”? That part usually gets skipped, and it’s exactly what most of us need the most.
It’s easy to think of want as something shallow — like, “Sure, I want a good outcome, but that’s not up to me.”
But actually... it is.
Desire is what gives your want meaning.
Desire turns “I hope I get better” into “I will do whatever it takes to recover fully.”
Desire turns “I hope I get better” into “I will do whatever it takes to recover fully.”
And that’s exactly what I did.
My brain didn’t hesitate: Is my implant coming loose? Did something go wrong?
Even though I’m nearly three years post-op on that knee, I still went straight to the worst-case scenario. Because that’s what we do. Something unexpected happens, and we assume it’s the implant. It’s the last big thing we did, so our minds grab onto it.
