Recently, our entire region was doused with a blast of snow reminding us what a reckless, intense force Mother Nature can be.

So, while many Central Oregon residents were experiencing some level of cabin fever after an epic and confining snowfall, I was blessed with a confinement of another kind. My back went out. I wish I could say I went out with it and we had a wonderful time together. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that kind of going out.

There was no sudden pop or bad fall — rather, over the course of a workday, the perfect storm of back-riling events ganged up on me the way repeated storms assailed our wonderland. Take 30 minutes of snow shoveling without proper warm-up stretching. Infuse liberal amounts of bitter cold. Mix in clunky oversize snow boots that don’t fit into the back seat of the SUV you are climbing into. Generously add six hours of working as the solo server in a busy restaurant (those of you who do this job know what I mean). Sprinkle with being the hostess and busser, too. Fall asleep (oh, I guess there was a fall involved) in a warm recliner chair after work, and, ta-da, wake up the next morning unable to move.

Now this ain’t my first rodeo with back issues. Oh no. Our family has a long and colorful history of back experience, so I presumed this would be another “rest over the weekend and be fine by Monday” kind of problem. It wasn’t. Five days later, I finally cried uncle and called the chiropractor. It was clear this dysfunction of my body wasn’t going away by itself.

By the time I saw my chiropractor, I had been suffering for a week, trapped not only in my icicle-adorned home, but by my body as well. In the many waking hours when I could do virtually nothing, I became humbled by thoughts of others who face the daily challenges of an uncooperative body. People who function with chronic pain or are missing limbs, those enduring chemotherapy or dialysis or those with other struggles.

As I worked my way to wellness, literally one step at a time, I became incredibly appreciative of the little things. Being able to bend over and pick up something dropped to the floor. Being able to put a sock on your own foot. How easily we take for granted that which is given to us each day — until it is taken away.

So, ever the optimist, I spent the next week gaining strength and looking for the blessing or silver lining. As others struggled with roofs collapsing, water leaking into their homes, unattainable utility bills and other predicaments both large and small, I found myself grateful, not only for all the little gains, but for being able to notice and appreciate them.

Hopefully, as you read this, you are warm and safe and dry. And if you are not, then at least know that you too will be able to walk yourself there one carefully placed step at a time, noticing what you can do as readily as you notice what you can’t.

— Sana Hayes is a free spirit, as comfortable in a tiara as she is in pajamas. She writes to better encounter the radiant self in each of us. Contact her at cowgirlsana@gmail.com.