Well, it’s the night before they knock me out again and remove the titanium rods from my lower right leg and ankle.
At 6:00 tomorrow morning, someone from Pillars will drive me to the hospital. When it’s over, they’ll bring me back here.
I’m not eager to go under the knife again, but this surgery needs to happen. I hope everything goes exactly as planned.
I’m ready to heal.
I’m ready to go home.
The woman who has changed my bandages several times is becoming a friend. Today she told me that her late husband had been president of a large local motorcycle club.
I laughed. She has always looked like an ex-biker chick.
I told her I lived in Oakland, California, during the seventies. She nodded solemnly and said, “Ah—Hells Angels.”
I told her Sonny Barger had been my neighbor for years. Our little dead-end street may have been the safest street in Oakland, especially when Sonny threw a party.
Later, my exercise therapist came in and introduced me by phone to a friend of hers. She was bragging about what a fit old man I am.
You bet I am.
Titanium rods and all.
She also gave me a strip of gray resistance rubber so I can keep exercising.
That is my life tonight, two days before I turn eighty.
I’ve been thinking about my elders and the members of my family who are long gone. I hope I get to see them again someday.
I also hope someday is still a long way off.
After the accident, in the worst of the pain, I said I wanted a shotgun shell. What I really wanted was for the pain to stop.
And after recently falling for a woman, I’ve learned something else: I can care deeply and still be okay on my own.
I am very glad to be alive.
I love this life.
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