DOORWAY TO RECOVERY

(My view of the doorway as I sat in my truck the morning of my surgery)

I’ve had two separate experiences over the years that seem to tie together as I consider the concept of “change”, and they consistently come back to the forefront of my mind and impact me to this day. I wouldn’t say either one was something I knew in the moment was as significant as it would become, but they’ve both stood the test of time and continue to return to me as a reminder and somehow continue to provide insight when it comes to the concept of “change”.  I’ve mentioned both in previous posts, but they will once again appear here because they recently came back to me in a fresh new way.

Yesterday I was waiting for a friend to arrive at the coffee shop and to pass the time, I opened the Notes app on my phone to review some of the entries I’ve added to see if there was anything to help jump start some writing ideas for me.  I came across one dated 6/9/25… the day of my surgery.  I opened the note and began reading the entry I made during the 4:00am hour that Monday morning. 

SURGERY DAY

In that 4:00am hour, I was reflecting on the thoughts I entertained in the days leading up to my total knee replacement surgery.  As bad as my mobility had become since February, I found it interesting I was looking for ways to avoid the surgery.  I entertained thoughts about how I could live with my circumstances, even though I had already cancelled any plans for hiking in 2025.  I was reminded of how several months earlier I had been watching a YouTube video of a peak I have wanted to return to for over 7 years now, and I had finally come to grips with the fact I could never physically get back there again unless I underwent the knee replacement procedure.  But still, in the moments leading up to this coming surgery, my limitations somehow appeared to be more tolerable, and I was willing to entertain thoughts about avoiding it.

I realize you don’t know me, but hiking has become a significant activity for reviving my soul, so to find myself actually entertaining thoughts about giving it up as a part of a potential deal to avoid surgery is tantamount to me selling my soul.

As I wrote in the note that morning, I mentioned that the five o’clock hour was approaching.  I was required to report to the surgery center about 45 minutes away at 6:00am, and I knew the time was swiftly approaching when I would put down my pen, grab my belongings, and head out the door.  I made the comment that I would soon hit those front doors at the surgery center and there would be no turning back… no opportunity to run from the coming pain of the recovery process… and that’s when the first memory hit me… Kent.

THE DOORWAY TO RECOVERY

I will be brief in this story but do want to share some details for anyone who has not read about it in a previous post.  Kent was a friend of a friend who had become my friend.  Kent was an alcoholic who had recovered and then fell back into drinking. 

On the night of this memory, Kent called from an unknown hotel room very intoxicated and asked for help.  We tracked him down with some effort, as well as the assistance of a helpful motel employee willing to violate confidentiality to verify his location, and after much encouragement, were able to convince Kent to check himself into detox.  The process required Kent to be medically cleared at the local hospital emergency room before Detox would take him. 

Everything was going smoothly (if you factor in working with a highly intoxicated person), until we arrived at the parking lot at the ER.  Everything changed for Kent when he looked at the doorway to the ER.  He became resistive, combative, and he was unwilling to go any further.  He sat down on the curb of the parking lot next to our vehicle demanding to be taken back to his hotel room.  Regardless of our encouragement, he was unwilling to walk through those doors.  Security personnel came out to assist but informed us there was nothing they could do if Kent was unwilling to walk through those doors.  

I’ll end that story there but add that Kent died within 2-3 years of that event; found in an alley where alcohol stole his last breath.  The memory of that event is what I found myself reflecting on during my own mental battles to pursue recovery.  

I somehow found Kent’s decision, although completely frustrating in that moment, to be somehow more understandable as I considered my own circumstances… my own desire to avoid the pain of the recovery process.  I found it interesting how I too was willing to sacrifice quality of life to avoid the momentary pain of a long recovery process.  And as I sat in the parking lot at about 5:50am that morning waiting for medical staff to unlock the doors, I stared at the front doors to the surgery room (pictured above), and I understood that once I walked through those doors… like Kent, there would be no turning back.

Of course, I was not fighting through my process with the complications of addiction added to it.  I was sober, and able to press through resistance with relatively clear thinking… but I found it so interesting that the idea of living with compromise was even on the table to be considered.

THE MANY FACES OF RECOVERY

When we think about the idea of “recovery”, it’s easy to apply the concept to addiction, or health issues, but let’s not stop there.   There are countless events people experience over a lifetime where the term “recovery” could apply: abuse/neglect, domestic violence, events that lead to some form of PTSD or secondary trauma… on-and-on I could go listing off examples, but this is where I require you as the reader to consider examples that may be relevant to your own story. 

How easy it can be in the moment when we consider the doorway to our own recovery, to somehow minimize our condition, to desire to return to the negotiation table and renegotiate a new deal that allows us to avoid the pain of recovery… to be willing to sacrifice future quality of life as long as we can avoid the momentary pain (or discomfort) that will no doubt accompany any recovery.

AND THIS LEADS TO MY SECOND MEMORY

Casey had been to prison on three previous occasions for 3–5-year stints.  He was back on probation a 4^th time for an assault charge.  I spent over 90 minutes in the jail with him our first meeting.  I was there to complete a 30-minute assessment when a conversation broke out.  We connected.  I found him to be an enjoyable guy to talk with. 

When Casey finally got out of jail he was assigned to be supervised by another probation officer in our office.  One day, after meeting with his PO, he walked by my office and asked if he could come in.  I happily invited him in and after learning he had no agenda for wanting to talk, we caught up on how he was doing, and I then asked if I could talk with him about the concept of “change”.   I pointed out that he had already been to prison three times, and he was back in the legal system a fourth.  I asked him what he thought were the barriers for changing, for giving up problematic behaviors that get him into trouble.   His response has stuck with me for probably 10 years, and the insight he shared will likely impact my perspective of “change” the remainder of my days.

Casey spoke of the familiarity that comes with all the previous dysfunctional patterns.  He said he knows what he can expect down the road from those behaviors.  He then spoke of the unknowns that come with change… the unpredictability, the uncertainty, and how uncomfortable it is to not be able to know what he can expect in the future if he were to do the work and change.  The conversation was rich with perspective, and I found Casey’s responses to be well thought out.  As unpleasant as the outcome of another prison sentence would be for him, he knew what he could expect, he knew he could do the time again because he had done it previously, and he was willing to gamble any potential loss of quality in his life (which I will refer to as the unknown) in order to live a life where he knew what he could expect.

APPLYING THIS TO THE DOORWAY OF RECOVERY

As I considered my current limitations, I was able to walk… albeit with a limp.  I was able to go to the store, to drive to the local coffee shop, to do my job… I was able to get by in my life.  I knew what I could expect – although I was not factoring in any future worsening of my condition.

To walk through those doors of the surgery center… to walk through the doorway of recovery, there was uncertainty.  Would the surgery be successful?  Would I be able to once again get up into the high country and hike?  Would I be able to get to the Keyhole on the Longs Peak trail?  Or… would I go through a long and painful recovery process and find myself still limited in what I could expect for my life?   

I won’t belabor all the imaginations I carried in the days leading up to the surgery, but applying this to other forms of recovery, it caused me to ponder on how often we chose to live with our circumstances because we doubt that walking through the doorway to our own recovery will truly lead to an increased quality of life.  We learn to live with our limp because we know what we can expect if we remain in this place… and we have no idea what we can expect if we choose to walk through those doors.

That’s it.  Something I hope will stick with some of you and cause you to ponder your own circumstances.  Is there a doorway to recovery out there you are avoiding?  If so, I hope this challenges you to consider your decisions.