Hey, Ma, look what I can do!

No, not wear mismatched socks; although, yes, that. My right foot can wear normal socks; the left requires larger fluffier socks. And doesn’t it deserve that?

For the first time since I was… what?… seven months? When do kids stand for the first time? I should know this. Anyway, I discovered I can put my foot down.

And keep it there.

I’m standing on my own two feet again.

For a few seconds before it starts hurting. But still! Progress!

Several of you have inquired how my healing is going, and my answer has pretty much been: it’s not. Since many of you also comment that I’m great at keeping my chin up, I haven’t wanted to talk about my struggles and let you down.

It’s really not so bad, but maybe the worst is when I dream that I can walk and then within my dream am like, “Oh. Wait.”

Or when watching something and thinking, “Wow. That person can walk!” Or seeing pics of my younger self as, “back in the good ol’ days when I could walk.”

Which is sort of dumb since it’s only been months, not years. And these are not complaints or “where are my tissues?” thoughts. They’re just a shift in perspective that makes me sooooo not take walking for granted. When I can actually do so again, it’s going to be uh-mazing!

On our recent family trip to the zoo, I saw an old lady also in a wheelchair. As we rolled past each other, I wanted to double tap my chest and extend a peace sign in solidarity. But she probably would’ve thought/discovered what a weirdo I am.

Before Christmas, we went to a shopping center that had a huge Christmas tree strung with lights that impressively changed color in time with festive music. There was also a machine blowing bubbles for kids, including mine, to prance around in and pop.

I sat nearby in my wheelchair, remarking to Hubs that I felt like a 90-year-old watching her great grandchildren. All I needed was a quilt across my lap.

Actually, that would’ve been nice. It was kind of chilly.

~~~

Y’all were enthusiastic about my Photo Dump idea, and I didn’t even “dump” all my random pics in that post.

So here’s another:

Hubs took this outside Target. I found it so artistic.

And another:

No real comment here, just, wow, look at that beautiful purple flower.

And uno mas:

A piece of Christmas decor at my Jiu-Jitsu place. The box was so fuzzy, I wanted to pet it like a kitten on my lap while I observed class.

Speaking of, some cool stuff from my last visit:

Instructor rolling over backwards directly into a standing position facing his opponent. This was almost as cool as that time he did a leaping triangle choke from standing, onto his brother, also standing. This involves wrapping one’s legs around the other’s neck, mind you.

Regarding the T-choke, he frequently uses the Disneyland balloon analogy of making sure you trap your opponent’s head so he doesn’t “float” away. He added to this:

“If you save your receipt for the balloon at Disneyland, they’ll give you a new one. But there are no refunds for the triangle choke.”

I can’t tell you how much I loved that.

Instructor has also frequently advocated for the importance of first trying to avoid the fight.

“But if you lay a hand on me, I am so sorry for what is about to happen to you.”

So awesome and made better by the fact that Instructor is such a small person.

I was surprised to learn that no one had received their next belt yet.

Surprised. Somewhat relieved. And a little vindicated.

It’s HARD to pass the belt test. Not just for me.

Muscular Gym Rat, the one who calls me “Killer” and likes to offer me advice, reported that he only finished the first test drill. So, like me, he was only able to perfect one drill at a time. I’ll just set aside, for the moment, that to me the first drill is the hardest, whereas the one I completed is the easiest.

The point is: It’s not just me struggling with this. NONE of the guys clamoring to catch up with me have tested on despite the massive time advantage I’ve given them.

Suddenly I don’t feel quite so bad at this after all.

But I did have one other concern, which I voiced to Instructor when he opened the door for me on my way out:

“Do you think it’s less fun for the guys when the girl is here?”

“No,” he said.

“I’m not ruining boys’ club?”

He shook his head and again said, “No.” And he seemed to mean it.

Just checking. I wouldn’t want to beat anyone up when I get back in there, which my foot is itching to do.

And finally, here’s Hubs when we came across the male mariachi counterpart [see last post] at a different store:

You’re welcome.

Here’s to 2023!

Advertisement