I'm Well Taken Care Of

Daily the pain grew worse. Yet I ignored it. I knew if I went to a doctor, I would open a whole can of worms, probably blood work, MRI or CAT Scan. I just didn’t want to go there. And so the weeks and then months passed. 

I had a theory about what was causing the pain…and opted to not mention it.

You see, before John died he had a serious conversation with me about my car. His goal was that I be safe. Therefore, he wanted me to purchase an AWD car. He didn’t specify what kind. I promised I would buy one.

I called my automobile experts at Archibald’s, the dealership where we conducted our car business (except for John’s last purchase…a red Cadillac. But that’s another story.) Danny knows me well and knew what I would like. And so his hunt began. Soon I received a phone call.  He believed he had found my car in Seattle, a Lexus IS 350 Sport. It was AWD.

What’s not to like?

I bought it.  BIG SMILE.  I put a little tag in it that said, “I’m not speeding, I’m qualifying”. It was just what I wanted. Yet I began to have problems with getting in and out. Deep bucket seats. Steering wheel as high as it could go. I experimented and decided the best way to get in was butt first and then swing my legs around and in. To exit, I just reversed the procedure, swiveling in the seat, putting my legs out the door and then standing up.

Over the months I began to experience some leg pain. Perhaps it was from working in the yard. Or maybe I overdid during my exercise routine. Time passed. This past April the pain became much more noticeable. Sitting on a hard surface caused an inability to walk when I first stood up. I began to carry a pillow with me.  To church. To lunch at a restaurant. To work. I felt 100 years old.

I observed my driving habits and compared them to when the pain worsened. The day I ran errands for several hours, I finally had to resort to Advil. The next day I had trouble walking, the pain shooting down my leg. I was going to have to give in and go to the doctor.

After some questions, poking and prodding, the doctor (without any expensive tests) explained he believed I had an inflamed bursa. Then came the question. Did I have any idea what might be putting pressure on that exact spot? Yes, I did.

“I have a theory. I have deep bucket seats. When I push myself up to get out of the car, the lip of the bucket seat pushes right where it hurts.”

The doctor gave me a prescription for Prednisone and then told me “As long as you have that car, your pain will not improve, it will only worsen.”

Such a deal.

John's car

I drove from the doctor’s office to Archibald’s. They were in disbelief when I said I needed to change cars. You can tell good friends about the pain in your butt. Right? So the hunt for a different car began. I sat in car after car. The lip on the seat caused pain when I exited. I was ready to give up when Jordie said he had one more suggestion. As he pulled the car out of its space and headed toward me, I sucked in my breath.

It looked exactly like John’s car (previous to the said red Cadillac).

I climbed in and then out. No pain. I felt so strongly that John was right there telling me, “This is the car I want you to have.”

An AWD RX 350.

I pondered it overnight. But each time I thought of it, I knew deep inside that I would get it, for a lot of reasons. Very safe. AWD. Just like the one John had and he felt safe in. But most of all, I felt John’s presence in that vehicle. I remember he used to correct me when I called it a car. It’s an SUV.

Joy's car

I never wanted an SUV.

My little sporty car had been just what I wanted. Yet I let go of it without any sadness. I have no regret that it’s gone. I have exactly the right vehicle for me. I named it BABE.

Throughout the whole journey, I had people looking out for me. My doctor who cut right to the chase. Archibald’s who understood my issue and worked hard to find the right solution. John, watching over me from heaven. And God, who cares about me. 

It’s been two weeks. The pain is gone. I am well taken care of.