Grip Strength: Resting in Strong Hands on One Foot
“Catastrophic,” “complicated,” and “once the Achilles tendon ruptures again, patients often have persistent functional impairments in the long-term and worse outcomes than first-time ruptures.”
To say it will be a “slow recovery” is optimistic. The surgeon has not given me a timeline. Recovery protocols are out the window. Mine is a “unique case.” A straightforward first-time rupture is notoriously slow, but this second time, the incision is much longer and the tendon much shorter. A longer wound takes longer to heal and a shorter tendon takes longer to stretch.
In His Grip
That was his closing, how my friend Kevin ended his note. Not “sincerely” or “fondly” or “best regards” —though I have nothing against those—but with these three one-syllable words:
“In his grip” is true.
- “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you have taken hold of my right hand.” (Psalm 73:23)
- “My times are in your hand; rescue me from the hand of my enemies and from my persecutors!” (Psalm 31:15)
- “Though he fall, he shall not be utterly cast down; for the LORD upholds him with his hand.” (Psalm 37:24)
- “If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.” (Psalm 139:9-10)
“In his grip” has become my default closing not only because it’s true, but because I do not know three other words that better describe my situation, whatever my situation.
They are a perfect match for “catastrophic” and “complicated” and those other discouraging words that appear when I research my re-ruptured condition.
On one foot again feels like a precarious postion.
A Precarious Position?
This second go-around with Achilles surgery and marathon-long recovery makes me feel fragile. In a way, I am. It only took one small step down to destroy nine weeks of new tendon fiber formation.
It feels as if I am in a very precarious position, what with my delicate splinted Barbie foot.
So precarious that the surgeon prescribed another course of antibiotics to lessen the chance of infection. So precarious such that I remain in a double splint with stitches for 22, not 12 days. So precarious that the surgeon told me flat out, “I’m reserving the donor tendon option in case you rupture again.”
Precarious means “characterized by a lack of security or stability that threatens with danger.”
That is exactly how I feel.
But I denounce this faithless feeling. I am not in a precarious position. I am assuredly not.
I am not in a precarious position. I assuredly am not.
I am precisely where I was on March 27th when I stepped onto that sunny Florida pickleball court footloose and carefree. I’m where I’ve always been, in the most stable and secure spot I could ever be.
I am in the grip of the Almighty God.
In His Grip
And the Almighty God has tested me this week. He wants my faith to be pure and my words to be true.
When a direct friend asked, “Will you be able to return to work?”
In his grip.
When a nurse friend saw the incision and said, “They should have cleaned your wound.”
In his grip.
When I saw the results of the blood test newly flagged as “Dangerously high.”
In his grip.
When pain from the splint makes me moan in the night.
In his grip.
When I grow weary of sitting and hopping and crutching and waiting.
In his grip.
Only, ever, always in his grip. Even in the soup.
In the Soup
Psalm 88 is the darkest, most hopeless of psalms. It even ends with, “Darkness has become my closest friend.” I have not felt this low, thank God, but I still love Alec Motyer’s comments on Psalm 88,
“This is the truth of the matter: if we are in the soup, it is he who has decided what sort of soup it is and at what temperature, and how long, and why! He is God. Jesus has assured us that we cannot be plucked out of his hand and the Father’s hand (John 10:28-29). Where were we when the trouble came? Why, where we always are – in his hand! Did the trial “get in” because he let go of us? Certainly not; the trial only means that he grips us more tightly!” (Psalms by the Day)
He grips us more tightly. You and me, both, friend.
Which brings me to this last thing before I close.
Grip Strength
How much do you know about grip strength?
It is more than opening your pickle jar. Grip strength is one of the best indicators of overall health and a very accurate predictor of longevity. It’s a key marker for resilience from chronic illness and associated with immune system and mental health benefits.
As much as I value strong hands as a reflection of a healthy body, and although I dangle from the pull-up bar daily to strengthen my grip, my Achilles heel has taught me this one thing.
The only grip strength that finally matters is God’s. His is “a strong arm” and his “hand is mighty,” (Psalm 89:13).
For, what was it our Lord Jesus said just before he breathed his last (Luke 23:46)?
“Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”
Truly, there is no safer place.
Respectfully,
Affectionately,
Yours truly,
Kind regards,
Best wishes,
From the trenches,
Toodles.
XOXO
X
In his grip,
Abigail
