Recovery!
03/21/2007 02:09 a.m.
Friday March 16 brought me to an elusive place of which I have dared dream only a couple of times since the accident shattered my left lower leg. Recovery from the restorative surgery seemed a long time complete but the discomfort seemed only to mount with passing time. A consult with the Orthopod over a year ago concluded that the metal and screws should remain; that I would get used to the plates which were assisting my tibia and fibula to articulate with the also shattered but reconstructed and healing talus bone in my ankle as well.

I remember leaving the hospital a bit jaded but not too much worse for the wear. I remember clinging to thankfulness that I did not land on the jagged rocks that were less than a foot away on either side of my point of impact; that even though my right elbow was not as fortunate it is still in working order and can bear weight. I remember reminding myself to be thankful that I did not pass out as I tumbled face-first into the water; that I was able to rotate my hips and legs by driving my fists into the gravel-bottom of the lake and doing a combination of a push-up and a break-dance move and thereby regaining a semi-sitting position from being prone, nose and mouth in water, and in danger of drowning.

I remember the breathless numbness and instant fiery pain from so many parts of my broken frame. I remember vowing to regain wholeness; to walk again.

The following blur of autumn blaze through the barrier of being house-bound and the dismal onset of winter; the limitations of the cumbersome wheelchair and the unforgiving schedule of work amplified by the additional hours of physical therapy; the punishment of the casts, and the torturous dreams of running undaunted as in youth; the pain and terror of endless and sweaty and sleepless nights; the pain, and the pain, and the ever-present, damnable pain: all of these obstacles seemed to be no match for the constant care, loving support, and insight from my best friend: my wonderful wife.

All of my needs and even wants were simply scheduled into her already incredibly busy day. She worked harder in the evening and went to bed earlier in order to be up about an hour earlier the next morning; all of this to accommodate my bathing needs, medication schedule, and getting dressed; complete with neatly pressed shirt, pants, and tie to be ready for another day in the office where other people's medical needs were triaged and treated. There was always a word of encouragement, a smile, a kiss, and the verbal assurance that this would all one day be a distant memory.

My work duties were accomplished with the mechanical assistance of a wheelchair to which I was surprisingly accustomed in minimal time. While never having wished to be in a situation such as this, I remember being thankful for the smooth transport over the tightly woven commercial carpet and for the air cushion which cradled my thankful buttocks day in and day out, both at work and at home. I remember the first day being the object of many co-worker's well-wishing and concern, and how that returned to an attitude of 'business as usual' only later that same week.

I remember phone calls and tiled hospital floors; unexpected flowers, family, friends, and so much discomfort. I remember so many moments of despair, as one who is already cold, yet hears the wind that will blow the night through.

The winds have exhausted and stilled. One skilled and caring professional listened to me and believed that the foreign bodies placed in my frame for the purpose of stablization and healing had become a source of impingement and extreme discomfort. He was willing to undo the work of another highly esteemed colleague and on Friday past completed the second of two surgical procedures relieving me of the many varied screws, bars, and plates that had outlived their usefulness.

This final outpatient day surgery found me discharged by 2:00 p.m. and while still under the canopy of localized anesthesia I walked unencumbered by pain and without restriction. This afternoon the small volume drainage device was extracted and I am left with a neat row of forty-some stitches that will be removed after the fourteenth day, post-operation. I have undergone physical change and have grayed significantly. I have endured. Oh yes, on Friday evening upon my return home I walked toward the house and realized I had left my 'Just for Men' facial hair colorant in the back seat of my truck. I ran back and retrieved it.
I am listening to sleeping people