I am the captain of my soul

A few days ago I told you how about how my life has been utterly upended since my dog Milo got sick. Unfortunately this is not the only challenge that I have been dealing with over the last month or so. Out of nowhere both my arms, my shoulders, and even some of my chest muscles, started to hurt; really hurt. From past experience I figured out that I have a pinched nerve, probably in my wrists. I got out my old hand splints (I have been down this road before but not to this degree) and tried taking anti-inflammatory medications, but they made me feel miserably sick. I backed off using my phone and my computer as much as possible to rest my arms. Then, when the pain got too much to bear I went to a walk-in orthopedic clinic where I waited for two hours to be seen. Then I was given the usual run around about getting seen by a specialist, and after countless frustrating calls I found out that the soonest available appointment to be diagnosed (not treated mind) would be in mid-May. 

   I went outside and screamed! Loudly!

   I had to carry a sick dog around with burning, aching arms and I could not take anything stronger than Advil for the pain. The doctors whose help I desperately needed were showing a singular lack of compassion. I was exhausted in mind, body, and heart, and I felt completely unable to control what was happening to me and mine.  

   As I looked up at the sky a memory came to me. I was standing in the beautiful grounds of my Oxford college, St. Hughes. It was spring, the gardens were bright with green lawns and blooming flowers, and one of my friends, who was studying literature, was standing on a bench reciting a poem with great animation. He was a real character, and though his performance was certainly flamboyant, as was his wont, it was also oddly powerful. 

Invictus 

by William Ernest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

 

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the Horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds and shall find me unafraid.

 

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

As I stood in my back yard looking up at the clouds that were scudding across the sky I could hear my friend declaiming these last two lines and suddenly I understood. I could either let Milo’s illness and my own pain force me to my knees, or I could take control of the situation, to the best of my ability.

   The poet wrote this powerful piece while he was struggling with a severe illness, and his words reflect the strength of his unconquerable spirit. Life frequently throws unpredictable events our way, but how we react to them is in our control. Our responses can lead to defeat or victory, despair or hope. My response to what was happening was a choice, and knowing in that moment that I could control that choice made me feel, unexpectedly and intensely, free. More strangely, I felt at peace. I was going to get through this, and I would start by contacting my own doctor to ask for help. I would not accept being ignored and shuffled around from one doctor’s office to another and another. I sent a message to my doctor and then I decided that I would practice some self-care: I would go for a long walk. 

Painting by James Van Fossen