|Dawn view from Nut Island. Taken by Ten on his morning walk|
After yesterday’s high stakes, exhausting physical therapy (along with other successful, cheeky exploits), I’m feeling a touch more confident. I WILL, fuckin’ A, get my left leg’s use back. NO I’ll never run a five minute mile but then, that was never in the stars anyhow. C’mon, in my fittest years, a truly slow jog would’ve been impressive. Any faster and the ice sloshes out of the cocktail glass, don’cha know.
Why do I feel this fresh certainty? The PTs are giving me more challenging exercises and, while I can’t do them perfectly, with beaucoup flair yet, I AM able to rise to the challenge.
Also, weirdly, I’m drinking a LOT (not enough yet but I’ll get there) more water and somehow that’s boosting my mood as well. Perhaps the increased fluid intake is related to the better performance?
So, I’m a little sore this morning but feeling more encouraged, confident and upbeat than I have in months.
This is good. I’m tempted to make plans (weekend in the Berkshires in September) and set dates (I’ll walk without that fucking brace by August’s end) but then I remember to rein in my impatient exuberance.
I’ll get to the Berkshires (and back to Iceland). I WILL walk without the brace (but I’ll still need the walker). I WILL be able to perform my morning and evening ablutions without a trained team of spotters—just not (probably) by the end of this month. Mobile joy-joyness WILL happen but I’ll jinx myself, set myself up for a big sad, if I set a timeline. I have a nasty tendency to get all unrealistic and shortsighted like that.
Another way that yesterday was a happy day, I got a confirmation email. All the books I ordered have shipped. YEA! I should be in silly sci-fi thriller land soon. That’s just what I need.
Believe you can and you're halfway there.
~ Theodore Roosevelt