I've been thinking, and my philosophical musings have led me to an analogy that goes like this: idle words are like a road map.
You look at a map of highways and cities and it all looks flat. You see mountains and their elevations listed, but the words and numbers don't carry the weight that a picture might. You might tell someone that you are going to walk from Kansas to the Pacific Ocean, and they, in turn, might look up your intended route in a handy atlas in the magazine rack by their recliners.
And that scanning of a one-dimensional map, spider-webbed with highways, crisscrossed with creeks and rivers, and titled with canyons and valleys might deliver a rather twisted image of your journey.
Perspective is one problem. Have they been down that road themselves?
Relativity is another. Gee, from the looks of this atlas, you're only going to hike about ten inches. How hard can that be? Have a nice trip! Send me a postcard!
And that mono-dimensional outlook is really the main culprit. "Looks like a bunch of left and right turns to me! You ought to do it! Yes, my advice is to go for it!"
Idle words are so like that. "You should go for that fusion. You'll feel so much better!"
While I, the journey-woman, am left with worries and doubts.
Will I be rendered worse than I am now?
Will I have pain and infections like I've seen others deal with?
Has anyone had these cranio-cervical rods for 20 years and how are they doing today?
I jokingly tell myself, "You should climb Everest! It's only a couple of inches of flat, smooth territory."
But I know better than that and I can't fool myself.
So, this is what I find myself doing these days. I'm wrapping my mind around the whole deal. I'm affirmatively voicing my future plans: "I'm going to go have the fusion early next year. Then I'll have a halo on for three months. Within six months or so, I'm going to be feeling SO good." Also, yesterday, I told my NY surgeon that, yes indeed, I will be coming back for the fusion.
Maybe my words are idle, but it's a way for me to "try it all on and see how it fits." Stand in front of the mirror, look back over my shoulder and assess the whole outfit.
The New Testament counsels: "Let every man be fully persuaded in his own mind."
We have often been taught that each advancement, every great exploration began with a tiny step. But that's not true. Before the tiny step comes the firmly-held belief that we CAN do this. Before that "one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind" came the self-convincing of one person's mind that this is indeed possible. Without the strongly-committed mind of a once-doubting explorer, nothing would commence.
Surely there must be within the uninformed brain of a child, shakily holding to the living room coffee table and reaching for her Daddy's outstretched arms, some nuance speaking to the heart which says, "This is possible. Go for it."