Ron Ledbetter

CFO, Superintendent of Schools

Texas Leadership Charter Academy (TLCA)



My wife, Debra, and I had been away on vacation for nine days. The kids had enjoyed time at Astroworld and water-parks while I was able to spend some quality time hovered over a brush pile full of crappie in the middle of Lake Conroe with my dad. The time away had been great but very exhausting.

 

I noticed that my back was aching a little during the trip, but nothing that a little couch time or a couple of Advil couldn’t resolve. It had been bothering me for some time, but as the trip progressed, seemed to be lingering.  I wasn’t sure what might be going on in there, but being in my early thirties and in fairly good shape, it hadn’t crossed my mind that something might be developing that could turn out to be pretty traumatizing. I had visited a chiropractor a few times but walked away from each visit dismissing it as just a little strain. It is nice to get away, but as most people can identify with, it’s even nicer to get back home.



Imagine our surprise as we pulled in the driveway to see water flowing down the front steps of our very first home. Debra and I had contracted for the shell of our new home to be built and then we had poured our heart and soul, our own blood, sweat and tears into finishing the house to save money. It was beginning to have our very own heart-print.  We were so proud, but completely devastated as we walked in to find water had been running in the floor for over a week as the result of faulty plumbing.  It had most likely ruined the floors and had seeped up to about six-feet high in the sheetrock of the walls. In the midst of that horrific picture, I was thankful that I was not a plumber and had not done the plumbing in this case. The blame here would fall elsewhere.

 
That evening, and late into the night, Debra and I moved all our earthly possessions out of the house and onto the driveway under our carport. You can imagine the emotions that ran through our minds while we emptied our new home so we might be able to salvage some of the floors and walls. The damage was pretty severe, but none worse than the rupture I incurred to a disc in my lower back as the two of us toted all our furniture and appliances out the door.
 
As it turns out, this was the final blow to my back. That emotional and exhausting move was all that the disc in my back needed to finally completely rupture. The early onset cause might not ever be known, but it was far from mind until much later. The immediate pain was clearly evident.



The home was quickly restored, but the impending restoration to my back was about to claim a year of my life. I missed a month of work and underwent a year of rehab that I would wish on no one. Looking back, I am so thankful that my chiropractor at the time had cared enough about me to refer me to one of the best neuro-surgeons in the country.  Even better was the fact that he was in San Angelo.

 
My injury had been in a weakened state long enough that it had caused damage to my sciatic nerve without me realizing it until the surgery was completed. As I awoke from surgery, it was to the realization that my leg was numb from the knee down.  That numbness lingered for an entire year.  To say the least, it was tormenting. It was a twenty-four hour a day reminder that damaging a nerve is pretty serious business.
 
My Rehab was long, and I went through probably twenty to thirty pairs of shoes or boots trying to find some means of comfort. Nothing seemed to work but time. That was in 1993; fast forward with me now, if you will, to 2011.
 
I realized while playing in the annual Bentwood Partnership with one of my best friends that something might be wrong again in my back. I was praying that it was not the golf that had caused it, and again who knows, I might not ever know for sure, but I had just moved my daughter to two different “upstairs” apartments within about six months.



Nonetheless, I had re-injured the same vertebra in my back, and the excitement from winning our flight was short-lived.  I was pretty devastated to say the least, because my first thought was, not being able to play golf again, and secondly had frightening thoughts of repeating the agonizing recovery that had plagued me eighteen years before.  Certainly, I had other thoughts besides just golf, but that is a love of mine that I wasn’t ready to give up.

 
A huge difference this time as compared to 1993 is the fact that I am now a Christian. I know Jesus Christ and I have come to know his amazing healing power. I have the faith, but as a man one can’t help but allow negative thoughts and doubt to clutter his mind. However, I did one thing this time that I had no knowledge of before, and now as I write this, know that it proved to be my saving grace; I sought prayer from a prayer warrior.
 
Outside of my beautiful wife praying for me along with many great friends, I knew one lady that was living a mission each day of praying specific prayers for specific people. I simply asked her to pray for my recovery.  I would soon learn that she not only prayed for me, but continued to do so for one hundred days. That’s amazing when you think about it; that a sister in Christ who is not a relative but just a friend, would hit her knees each day, specifically for me, for one hundred days.



My second surgery on the very same disc was in September of 2011. I didn’t wake up this time to numbness and fear, but immediately was walking and enjoyed returning to my own home that very night.  Recovery was so fast that I returned to work after three days at home. I wasn’t at full speed obviously, but back to a life nonetheless. I finally asked my friend to direct her prayers to someone else in mid-March when I was able to begin playing golf again. If you think God can’t heal then you probably shouldn’t be listening to me. I am here to tell you that God does heal. I may not ever be back to a hundred percent, but my pain is only temporary if it comes at all, and I am back to enjoying one of the things I love the most because of prayer.

 
Having a great surgeon in San Angelo is a true blessing, but having “the” surgeon on call is even better.