The Walker

The Walker

It's over.  I hope.  The calluses on the heels of my hands are thick and rock hard and hurt when I press on them.  The aftermath of 6 weeks driving and maneuvering the walker noisily around obstacles in the house.  But they remind me of what to appreciate.  They'll soften at some point.  It'll be quieter soon as I switch to crutches and a cane and to an unsupported limp.  The walker can sit in a corner.  The tool belt can take it's place back in the garage where it belongs, the rest of the pills flushed and remotes can rest on the coffee table.

In one week the surgeon should give the all clear.  All restrictions off.  Back to work,  Back to the bike,  Dig out the skis and find some wax to melt.  The poles may serve as expensive crutches for a while, but gentle classic skiing should give way to skating at some point.  I can't wait to hop back in my truck and just tool around the back roads a bit, camera along, hunting for pictures.  The hip pain is gone, so I guess in the long run the recovery was worth it, and with the brutal cold so far, maybe my timing was right.  It's over with the walker, but I have a whole new appreciation for it.  A respect for the "old" people that have to use them every day.  Their calluses must be infinitely thicker and will never go away.  When I see that shuffle the next time, I will understand.  It's a slow motion living and a lesson in frustration at not being self sufficient. I'll understand, but hope it's over with the walker for me, for a long time.