Metaphorically, I was freezing. I was tired of the cold. I was tired of those stupid crutches. Sick to death of them. Of hobbling around from place to place, of having to think of how I was going to navigate a certain area or place, of always having to take them into consideration.
I went into the barn. My deserted, dusty, cobwebby barn. I picked up the broom and tried to sweep the floor, the way I do in the kitchen, with one hand. But the barn broom is much heavier than the house broom, and that wasn’t going to work.
I have been so very afraid of hurting myself again. The physical pain of the initial accident and subsequent surgeries were very fresh in my mind. I didn’t want to undo all the healing I had done. I just had to try to put some pressure on my leg, snugly encased in my velcro boot. Dr. Rosas said for me to try to do what I was comfortable with. I told him
|Copyright Garry Larson|
But now I had had enough. It was sink or swim time. I leaned my crutches against the gate. I balanced myself and gingerly put my left foot forward and rolled on it, heel to toe, as I brought my right foot forward.
It was okay. A little tweaky, but not bad. I took another step. In the quiet of my barn, surrounded by the shadows of all my former horse loves, I started really living again. Within the next ten minutes, I had swept the barn floor, moved the wheelbarrow and tidied things up. I had proven to myself that I could it.
I had shown myself that a little faith can go a long way.
Larry often tells me that he has faith in me. He recently said I have taught him the most about faith - not in the religious sense, but in the humanity sense. I learned about my own faith that day in my slightly scarred soul and badly scarred leg. I did it, taking that step back towards myself.
That was almost two weeks ago. I am now walking well (with the boot), although rough or uneven ground is still a challenge. I can get up and down stairs much better, and am able to walk at home without the boot, although they are smaller, mincing steps, but self-powered all the same. The first time I was able to carry my own coffee out of the kitchen, you would have thought I’d won the lottery. I played 9 holes of golf for the first time ever last weekend (with a cart), poorly, Larry and I had a blast. I mowed the grass by the chicken coop because I couldn’t stand it any longer. Now that was empowering! And the girls seemed happy to see me back there. Even if I made that up in my own mind, I’ll take away the feel-good.
Ya gotta have faith.