infection and safety

Imagine this situation: halfway through a fun yet competitive baseball game, the score is tied and players appear to be evenly matched. With a runner on first, the batter positions himself to take advantage of the strong winds, hoping the ball will effortlessly drop among the blades of grass in the outfield. The echoing sound of the bat contacting the ball is faintly heard because of passing automobiles on the neighbouring highway. Rounding second, the first base runner quickly judges the position of the ball in relation to the location of third base. With some confidence but complete commitment, the runner sprints towards third, realizing too late that the decision ignored the advice of the third base coach. To avoid being out, the runner must slide to third praying that the throw is delayed by a millisecond to ensure their safe arrival. The result:
Less concerned with the actual fact that I was safe, I became increasingly aware of the unique pain and sensations being emitted from the upper half of my lower left leg during the next few hours. Admitting the following morning that I had developed an infection , I began to experience unique sensual feelings from my leg. A small moving creature appeared to be inhabiting the surface below my skin, trying to claw an opening to escape. Foamy bubbles seemed to develop near my knee, gradually descending towards my ankle, then returning back to the comforts of my knee. I describe these sensations not to sound like I have defeated some grave illness and least of all to sound heroic, but to discuss the idea of release. Many of us have these abstract creatures lingering in our hearts, our minds, or our souls. Desperately wanting freedom, the creatures inflict pain on their guards. To be liberated, the creatures and the guards alike must unify in understanding that release is for the betterment of both entities. In comparison to us, that which inflicts pain needs to be released so that healing and fulfillment might be achieved. In other words, as I experience pain in all facets of my life, I realize that the creature must be rid or forsaken so that I can mature and develop as intended by my Creator.

The third baseman asked of me "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to slide in shorts?". Before I provide an answer, let me dissect the question. Being safe meant taking a risk. Arguably though, I recognize that complete safety, to which I refer as sheltering, would have meant staying on second and not furthering my opportunity for success. I knew within a few steps of third base that the only possibility of avoiding failure would be to risk my physical health. Thus, safety required risk. Sometimes, being uncomfortable or taking a risk or being challenged is mandatory to be safe or secure or successful. In other words, finding satisfaction and joy and bliss is imbued in experiences of pain, of disappointment, and of challenging other's advice. So, to respond to the third baseman, no my parents did not teach me to passively journey through life without ever extending beyond complete sheltering. Instead I must take a risk to experience safety.

I think I will take the advice of a ten year old: "Michelle, don't run. It hurts. You go see a doctor.", but not before I conquer the mountain bicycle trail through the hydro power lines; aptly referred to as the Hydro Cut.