FORTITUDE

If you type "fortitude" into Google this is what you'll find: "she endured her illness with great fortitude". Given my current circumstances I found this not only hilarious but also quite fitting. Fortitude essentially means: courage, brave, to be resilient, having strength of character under trial and tribulation...or my personal favorite: true grit.

Undergoing any type of surgery takes fortitude. Let me be honest, writing this while taking round the clock medication takes fortitude. For those of you who've experienced it or know someone whose undergone any sort of operation the truth is simple. It's a hefty process from beginning to end. It's no walk in the park, well unless you live next to a fire swamp.

After surgery, or as I now call it...being screwed back together, I forgot all the lovely words and phrases I spoke about Turning The Page. Nope, all those pretty words and images flew right out the hospital window. Truth be told I asked my mother in my delirious state, "this is voluntary, right?". Apparently, I needed to be reminded that I did in fact literally sign up for all of this. Pain has a way of doing these kind of things. You want to know what's really funny about having this surgery? I can now say I am screwed up...literally. There's a certain kind of relief and freedom in knowing this. God's titanium reminder to a recovering-type A of how out of control I really am in the grand scheme of things.

All joking aside, here's the truth. For as painful, debilitating, terrible and at many times embarrassing as this process is...these horrible moments are not what I remember. I consciously know I spent those first few nights in the hospital bed in excruciating pain, in tears, feeling hopeless, and unable to communicate to my care-givers how they could help. IV's sucked, sitting up for the first time...a nightmare. Walking for the first time...let's not get me started on that one. Throwing up...well we won't go there. Being forced to depend on others when you're Miss Independent...not easy. My head knows these things, I can recall those moments, but I do not feel them. My body, my mind, does not hold onto this pain.

What I do remember, what I truly feel even now is not the pain...but the joy and love the pain brought me. I remember:

• My mom never wanting to leave my side...my constant hand to hold.

• As the nurses flittered around me, my 84 year-old grandfather looking at me from across the room and mouthing: I Love You. 

• My dad sleeping on the floor of my hospital room because he wanted to spend the night with me.

• My grandmother kissing me on my forehead...every chance she got.

• Laughing to myself when my friend Amber "lawyered up" at seeing me in pain post-surgery...I knew the nurses and doctors did not stand a chance against my best friend.

• Watching two of my best friends, Morgan and Keri Anne, meet for the very first time when they visited me in the hospital. 

• Seeing Keri Anne's 18 month old daughter Rachel clapping her hands as I finished my walk around the hospital wing. 

• How gracious, kind, patient, and sweet my Vanderbilt nurses and care-givers were. 

• The smile on my face when meeting my new bro Harper. Puppy-therapy is the best! 

• The smell of beautiful flowers, thoughtful gifts from sweet friends and clients. 

• Seeing the purple initials marked onto my body for surgery..."JC". 

• The abundant messages I received from friends and family members letting me know how they were praying for me. 

These are snapshot moments my soul clings to. Memories I recall when the pain courses over me again, when I doubt Turning The Page, or when I need a kick in the butt for being Un-Authentically Me. 

In our culture, fortitude often conveys the image of bolstering up or pressing forward alone. It brings about the image of one person using all that they have within themselves to accomplish a goal, to bring about change, to persevere through a trial. However, all the memories I have during this hefty process include family members, life-friends, even strangers who became new friends...all individuals who weave together to make up my community here in Nashville. Ironic isn't it. 

I was wheeled to the operating room, but not before my mother squeezed my hand. 

I sat up in the hospital bed, but the nurse held me.  

I took my first steps to the chair, but my grandmother walked beside me. 

I walked to the nurse's counter, but my father stood beside me the whole time. 

After making two laps around the hospital wing my grandfather taking every step with me, my nurse brightly said, "you're doing great". I nodded and with a simple smile I spoke a single word: FORTITUDE.

Fortitude no longer means simply having within me the courage to face adversity, being resilient through trials, or having true grit. It holds a new power, the ability to do all these things but appreciate the people who walk beside me. Often times we honor the individual person, we praise their unique abilities, their solitary journey through the crucible set before them. However, the greater power of fortitude is not something that happens in isolation but rather within the arms of community. 

-Authentically Me