I'd been struggling with basics- exits, landings, beginner RW skills etc...
I tried hard to be good. I jumped every weekend, listened to my coaches, did tunnel work and studied the SIM. No freeflying or cameras for you, I told myself. Learn the basics first. Be safe.
Yet my "be safe" attitude didn't keep me out of a ridiculous accident:*
As I blogged earlier, I wasn't proud of myself, nor was I thrilled with the idea of not jumping for months... ...but I knew I'd be better off if I focused the good stuff. I hadn't been killed, right? I'd be out of the hospital soon, and even in the meantime, there were things to appreciate:
The accident didn't hurt much. It was the kind of pain that might have you thinking about where the aspirin was.
Then came the physical therapy.
After a blood transfusion, five nights and some physical therapy I was cleared for the rehab hospital.
I was never bored. It was Gimp Boot Camp. Lots of exercises and activities to do: Bend, stand, stretch, lean, step etc...
And then I peeked out the window and saw a bunch of cop cars come up...
...doors shut. A warning recording squawked on the intercom. I gunman had been reported downstairs.** Gunman? I thought, This has been the most insane week ever. I didn't hear any shots, but scoped the room for possible hiding places, just to be sure.
The cops combed the place. No gunman.***
I'd been hospitalized once before, when I was very little. I hear I wasn't a model patient.
This time I tried to be more practical. I gave myself some rules:
Rule Two: If it's not bedtime, get out of bed. You can get out of bed now, so sit in a chair.
My logic? If spent my time acting like I was getting better, I'd convince my brain that this was the case. It wouldn't heal me, but if I thought I was getting better, I'd be more likely to participate in stuff that would make me better: getting around and exercising.
Soon I was able to sneak into the dining room and make coffee. My caffeine fix was calling. I spilled it all over the place the first time...
A week later they sprang me.
Standing and walking with the cane was a hassle at first, but I did my exercises...
Recently I saw an x-ray of my leg for the first time. I'd envisioned a clean little break. Not so. It looked like someone had worked it over with a hammer.
In a few weeks I went from barely being able to stand...
to walking with a cane to walking without one. I'm not very graceful or fast, but check with me later...
*Not that being safe was a bad choice. Had I been more daring, who knows what trouble I might have gotten into?
**I wasn't supposed to know this detail until later, but someone told me anyway.
***I suspect it was a false alarm.