Baby Steps
I thought it would hurt me a lot more that it does to type these words today. Not in any figurative/metaphorical sense of "oh, it hurts that it's Tuesday and that racial inequality still exists despite the legacy of MLK; Kenya is still burning; Roe v. Wade is in grave danger, and the fabric of the world economy that has been so disastrously frayed by the irresponsibility of the Bush administration is finally falling apart at the very seams", but more in the literal sense of, "ouch, each key I press hurts my fingers". I should be really, really sore today. That's because yesterday,
I WENT CLIMBING.
Yep!
It's been two and a half years after the initial climbing accident where I took a that snapped my tailbone right off and a year and two months after the peripheral injury that broke my hip, subsequently learning the full extent of the nerve damage in my spine. After months of ostensibly world-class doctors scratching their heads and telling me maybe I'd made it up or maybe it was lupus, months and months of tedious physical therapy exercises replacing my social life, and even months of chronic pain that made me a very cranky shell of my former self, I wasn't sure I'd walk properly ever again, much less get back up on a climbing wall. So please forgive me if it sounds like I'm tooting my own train whistle after having gotten up a measly 5.8, but I'm so fucking stoked.
Yeah, there's still a long road ahead to recovery, and I'll never be the same as I was before that fall, and I'll probably never run again. But today, I'm savoring this.
Of course, the Object belayed and recorded the whole experience for posterity:
It's been two and a half years after the initial climbing accident where I took a that snapped my tailbone right off and a year and two months after the peripheral injury that broke my hip, subsequently learning the full extent of the nerve damage in my spine. After months of ostensibly world-class doctors scratching their heads and telling me maybe I'd made it up or maybe it was lupus, months and months of tedious physical therapy exercises replacing my social life, and even months of chronic pain that made me a very cranky shell of my former self, I wasn't sure I'd walk properly ever again, much less get back up on a climbing wall. So please forgive me if it sounds like I'm tooting my own train whistle after having gotten up a measly 5.8, but I'm so fucking stoked.
Yeah, there's still a long road ahead to recovery, and I'll never be the same as I was before that fall, and I'll probably never run again. But today, I'm savoring this.
Of course, the Object belayed and recorded the whole experience for posterity:
posted by The Goo at 8:05 AM
1 Comments:
LUPUS! In retrospect, HI-larious. "We see you've got a faceful of buckshot and have recently been hunting with the veep, but we think that it's probably an allergic reaction to spelt." Thanks, doc.
Can it be celebratory sangria?
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