Into The Blue Again
I’ve been in the water now for nearly a week. Every afternoon a lift transfers me from wheelchair to the pool. For about an hour I do aqua therapy. It is really the key to my recovery since I have multiple fractures. One of the exercises is to try walking on my toes while floating at the deep end of the pool. I’m still under doctor’s orders not to put any weight on my fractured heels. It takes me about a half minute to cover 15 feet. Why, you may ask? Well, for me it feels like an electric shock every time each foot touches the bottom. “Nerve damage,” say my physical therapist. “But keep on doing it. You need to regain a normal sensation.” So I do keep on keepin’ on. Tactile encounters. And even after only a week I feel that at least my right foot is less sensitive.
I’ve been reading a lot of book lately. Those that have put some things into perspective after the fall are Churchill-A Life by Martin Gilbert, Hoda by NBC News correspondent Hoda Kotbe and Back From The Dead by NBA great, Bill Walton. Winston Churchill talks in depth about the horrors of trench warfare in WWI. Hoda Kotbe details the violence of her breast cancer surgery. And Bill Walton explains the hundreds of surgeries he endured during his basketball career due to micro fractures that no one readily detected. After reading all that, I feel less inclined to write further posts of Wheelchair Diaries.
So this one, Number Eleven, is my last. I’ve done enough therapeutic writing to last me for a while. Plus, describing this very long, slow recovery is just not very riveting. Rather, I’m going to go back to being Worldkid. Granted, my new life style (hopefully temporary) is quite altered. But I plan to focus more on my island life as much as I can—those parts of it that still engage me after nearly a decade on Bonaire.
So with that in mind, I bid adieu to the Wheelchair Diaries. I suggest for you to do the same. Dial up The Talking Heads, turn up your stereo to 10, and celebrate the spirit of Once In A Lifetime. I know that I am.