The $6 Man

The doctor recently diagnosed me as having tendonitis in my left wrist, which certainly explains why it has been rather sore lately and I've had to wear a brace for support. As a result, I am back visiting one of my "favorite" places on a regular basis: SportsMed physical therapy.

Fortunately, my physical therapist, Dave Osteyee, really knows his stuff and has been giving me exercises and treatment that have really made the wrist feel much better over the past couple of weeks. At my last appointment, he fitted me with the (pictured) wrist device that attaches to a battery and sends electrical currents into the area, speeding the flow of blood and, thus, healing.

Upon leaving the office, I felt like the $6 Man.

Oh, the Weather Outside Is Frightful . . .

Perhaps you've heard the news by now, but in case you haven't: On the evening of November 30/morning of December 1, strong canyon winds – some gusts reaching over 100 MPH, or the equivalent of a grade 2 hurricane – swept through several parts of Davis County, including Bountiful. The power was knocked out all over town and is still out in some places (fortunately, mine was restored after about 24 hours).

Additionally, many trees, including ones older than I am, were knocked over. The neighborhood looks quite different than it did a few days ago.

Regardless, I'm grateful - because things could have been a lot worse. Overall, my second hurricane was actually not as inconvenient as that one I weathered in Puerto Rico 22 years ago.

The Night the Lights Went Out in Bountiful

At 1:00 a.m. this morning, the city of Bountiful went completely dark and stayed that way for about three hours.

The city's power company, apparently, needed those three hours to switch over to a new system. The technical jargon behind it all is completely lost on me, but suffice me to say that when Biz, Jeff, and I returned from performing at ComedySportz in Provo at about 1:30 a.m., it was somewhat eerie looking down 500 South and seeing nothing but total blackness.


My car was parked over at Biz and Jeff's place, so upon arriving there with them, I made the careful-but-slow trek home in the blackness, treating every traffic light like a four-way stop. When I made it home, I couldn't get to sleep right away, so I planned on reading a book by flashlight for a while. That's what my plan was. But instead I found myself sitting alone in the darkness with my thoughts.

For one thing, I was reminded again how much we all depend on electricity and light and how prevalent it is in our everyday lives. For another, I remembered how scared of the dark I was when I was a kid and how that fear no longer affects me anymore. I also tried to pay a lot more attention to the things I could hear, my sight being temporarily limited.

If you slept through or otherwise missed the blackout, I recommend trying it out (spending a little bit of time in the darkness) sometime. I bet you'll have an educational experience.

I'll be the one in the corner, wearing the infrared goggles.

It's Electric!

For most of the afternoon, I've been thinking about electricity.

I began pondering on the matter at another session of physical therapy - a place I just can't seem to stay away from, for one reason or another - when I was hooked up to an eStem machine, as is often the case when I am there for my appointments.

eStem, for those not familiar with it, is the thing that makes going to physical therapy completely worthwhile. It comes once you've finished biking and lifting weights and doing push-ups and stretching and sweating and grunting and groaning, much like the pumpkin cheesecake dessert after a meal filled with broccoli, Brussels sprouts, and carrot juice (it's good for you, but it doesn't taste too pleasant while you're ingesting it). Electrical pads are attached to your sore spot(s), sending warming electrical vibes and causing increased blood flow, which aids and enhances the process of healing.

Today, in fact, I broke a new personal record on the eStem machine, taking in electricity at the highest possible setting the machine could reach. For 20 minutes per session, you get to sit like this, reading a magazine or (mainly) relaxing, letting the electricity do its thing.

On my way home, though the eStem had been disconnected, the electricity still felt like it was pulsing through me for an additional half-hour. I felt a bit like the Six-Million Dollar Man, or Thor, or at least a toad when it gets struck by lightning.

My pondering evolved into this: The Atonement is a lot like the soothing electricity from an eStem machine. It often doesn't take full effect on us until after we've been through a certain degree of suffering, be it spiritual, physical, mental, or otherwise. But it heals us and remains with us. And, yes, we have to keep going back to it to continue to benefit from it.

Or, as a famous person once said: I don't fully understand God, and I don't fully understand electricity, but I refuse to sit in the dark.