Last night’s physical therapy sucked wind. At least I didn’t break down and sob this time, though Hubs thought he saw me wiping away tears. Nope, just good old hard-earned sweat! I was honestly surprised I could walk back out to the waiting area without my crutch when it was over. I did use the counter a little for support. There was a part of me that truly just wanted to give up. Hell, what’s wrong with limping the rest of my life? I’m sure I’ll be fine.
Cut to this morning, getting off the bus. Crutch under one arm, umbrella in the other hand, trying to make sure I can step off safely before they close the back door in my face. Oh hell no. This is so not my future. As if to further confirm that, as I prepared to cross the street I spied a woman sitting on the low wall in front of the drug store on the corner. She was short and very round. There was one of those wheeled walkers beside her and she was fumbling with a bag or backpack or something. I didn’t spend a lot of time studying her but the quick glance was enough to make me pray silently, “I’m not judging her Lord, but please…I do not want to end up like that.” And I truly believe I wasn’t judging. (I’m tall and round after all; who am I to judge?) The light changed and as I started my hobble across the street my heart went out to her, wondering what led to her immobility. I did not presume that she was fat because she was lazy. Having experienced the slow debilitation of an arthritic knee, I empathized and then prayed for her too, that she would find relief from whatever caused her to need the walker.
One day I will be able to sit on the grass again without worrying about how I’ll get up. I’m looking forward to being able to dance while doing housework as I used to. I can’t wait to play hide and seek with my grandkids. And go shopping with my daughter. Life is good. Physical therapy is making it better!