I was at the Emergency department last night, not as a medical student, but as a patient. Although I knew I would be all right, and no life-and-death issue was involved, my pain (even by endurance sports standards) was excruciating. My pain score was 8/10. It was late at night, the pain was increasing in severity and by the time I reached the hospital, I could hardly stand. Walking was impossible. I had to use a wheelchair.
I was supposed to be at another hospital on a 36-hour shift, through Easter Sunday, but the junior doctor said I needn't go since it was a sunday and a holiday. My professor needed me to be around for the full day on Monday so I was elated to know I could get away with a rest guiltlessly. This module, with its 12-13 hours workdays and 36-hour shifts once a week had been killing me, and I was glad not to go to work. Rest, I should have. Instead, because of fear and perhaps a lack of trust that God had prepared me well enough for the race, I went to swim-bike-run my triathlon distance just to convince myself I was well-prepared.
It was when I got off my bike, tried to run and could not, that I knew something was wrong.
You should've seen me at the Emergency department.
Supposedly "unstoppable, cool, fast, lean and mean" triathlete-in-the-making was now hobbling around more slowly than an old lady, struggling even to stand, because of an excruciating pain in her groin/ inner thigh.
Go on, laugh out loud. I, too, was laughing through it all, because I found it absolutely hilarious. Even the doctor was giggling together with me, and was tickled at my misfortune.
"It's a common tear," he said. "I had it many times while I still did sports back then."
Because he knew I was a medical student, he told me, "You tore your gracilis muscle.""My gracilis?"
"Yea, it helps you adduct (bring your leg inwards)."
"Oh great, I've a race this weekend. Can I still race?" I grinned.
"See how it goes. It usually takes a week to heal."
I tore my gracilis. My grace-lis muscle. And it made me wonder if even through this, God had something in store for me to learn. Had I misappropriated God's grace for me? The triathlon sport is something He gave to me which I did not deserve. By not attending my 36-hour shift and doing a race simulation out of a lack of trust, had I not honoured God's grace to me?
If grace is taken to mean God's sufficiency, then had my unwholesome, joyless attitude toward this module in the past week been a reflection of my lack of acknowledging God's sufficiency to strengthen me, to bring me joy even in drudgery? It was a sobering thought.
A friend, on the other hand, thought otherwise. "Perhaps, it's God's grace that you're now given 3 days of medical leave. Isn't this the rest you've been wanting to have?"
Truly, I'm very thankful for this break. It was much needed. Nonetheless, I learnt a sobering lesson through this experience.
I realised that towards the end of last week, I had become irritable at work. The long hours, lack of genuine patient contact and other factors had made me sullen, bored and unmotivated. I realised, that I was no longer resting in God's grace. The weaker, more desperate and more broken we are, the more grace (favor and provision) God shows us, if only we are willing to receive it. I didn't.
God's kindness towards me to bring me His joy and strength was there (it is always there), but I had chosen to ignore it. If only I had listened to that still voice within me to honour my work ethic and God, and gone to the hospital, trusting His ability to be sufficient for me, to provide me with His joy, to see me through that Sunday, I would have been the recipient of God's grace. But I didn't. And although there were "legitimate" reasons (I call them excuses) for my not turning up, I knew the attitude of my heart was just not right.
I ran away instead, and lived my easter sunday outside of God's grace.
So it was apt, I suppose, that of all the muscles I tore, I tore my gracilis, the most unglamorous of all muscles, right there in my groin/inner thigh. Pain in the ass, literally.
Today, I feel a lot better. My pain started to subside as I began to reflect upon this incident, examine my heart attitude, acknowledge my failings and accept God's discipline for me. I learnt, that no matter how much we don't enjoy doing something for whatever reason, we must learn to work and live for God wholeheartedly, joyfully- and that is only possible when we accept His grace for us, his undeserved blessing and provision. In doing so, we acknowledge that God is sufficient for us.
Thank you all for the outpouring of well-wishes, prayer and concern for my race this weekend. Facebook has indeed made the world a lot smaller, and warmer. I'm overwhelmed by love through all your emails, text messages and notes, really. Thank you, J, for sending me flowers, cake and a get well card- I'm really touched beyond words. Really appreciate your prayers for me, I'm hoping to be healed soon.
If I can't race this Saturday, I'll just have to believe that God is enough for my situation. But something tells me, I'll be okay for my race by then. This is a sobering reminder of how sports and good health really are undeserved gifts from God which I should be grateful for. Just as how I'm learning to receive God's grace for my situation spiritually, I'm believing that my spiritual restoration of God's grace to me will be reflected in my physical healing of that muscle down there too.
I'd like to learn to take joy in all my "sufferings" at work, the way I do when I'm suffering on the road during training. Boy, I'd like to swim, bike, run again.
Gracilis!
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