Chapter 74

It was a tough haul, but I was at least 70% by May day. I might not be able to wind and unwind the May pole, but I could walk with only a cane to maintain my balance. I was also back to OTC cocktails for the pain. I still took diphenhydramine to help me sleep, but I didn’t really count it. I could still remember my first walk around the block. I was high on oxy at the time. I was using an ‘old lady’ rolling type walker with a seat. I used that seat more than I walked, but I made it around the block four times a day. When my first script for Oxy ran out after two weeks, I didn’t bother to renew it. I decided to risk my liver, rather than my life. Yes it was in middle of the overdose scare. Fortunately I have a higher tolerance for pain than a lot of people.

The walk around the block was reasonably short maybe a tenth of a mile. I didn’t have anyone check it, since I didn’t really want to know. Even when I pronounced myself on the mend, I still struggled some mornings. It could be a real slog, but I had Mikah with three legs to remind me that it could be worse. There was a time when I would have laid in bed for six months with the same kind of injuries. I guess I grew up or grew old.

When I first walked with the ‘old lady’ walker, I almost destroyed it. Since I couldn’t put any weight on the left leg, I had to lean on it with every step. Each step was no more than a few inches. It was push the walker then swing my fat ass up to it. Image doing that all the way around the block, with a belly full of Oxy. Everyday was a battle. The question was who was going to win, me or the pain. Sure sometimes I won, and some times I laid in bed feeling sorry for myself.

Mayday was the turning point. I was able to walk use the miserable walker to get into the Walmart store, then use their scooter to get around. Walmart was a blessing during that time in my life. I was able to purchase the essentials of life all on my on. It was redneck courage at it’s best. One day I filled the Accent’s trunk with 12 packs of toilet paper. When I say fill, I’m talking a dozen 12 packs at a time. I managed to buy 6 jars of strawberry jelly on the same trip along with ten small jars of peanut butter. Those I figured were my emergency rations.

No matter what people thought about the old man riding the scooter on those first few trips, it just didn’t bother me. None of my days were spent doing anything fun, unless someone came by to take me somewhere outside the house of pain. Which believe it or not happened often.

Thia made her twice weekly stops after work. She was working the night shift, when I got sprung from the hospital. So she stopped by on her way home. At first she just helped me around the house, since it was such a hassle to get all my shit into her SUV. She also brought biscuits from Hardee’s in those early days.

Toward the end of May she was driving me to the grocery store. I really don’t think she trusted me to drive there alone. During almost every weekend Mica and, or Janet stopped by. I never asked what was happening with them, I just took them out to a nice dinner.

Jon came by now and then, to work on the car wash, during that summer of pain. Durham artist co-op sold season one of ‘That Bitch Tory’ to something called the global TV network. They had to rush, but they got it on the air starting in the fall. I had a built in bias, but I liked the show before it even aired.

All my giant strides in getting back to normal petered out by the middle of August. The walker had been replaced by a newer, shorter, but just as stout, version of the entrenching tool cane. It was still too heavy to be a cane anyone else would buy, but I liked it fine.

“The last rehab specialist was a woman name Marcie. She lasted only six days. We butted heads, and I said to myself. ‘Fuck this, I don’t have to pay to fight was a woman. Thia will do it for free.’ I did sorta steal an idea from her though. She wanted me to buy a stationary bike. Instead I had a bike shop mechanic convert a workman 20” tricycle to my specifications.

It wasn’t cheap, but he added a twenty inch hub motor to the out of the box Workman. The trike and battery pack cost me over a grand. I figured what the hell I wasn’t spending any money at all on anything, but doctors and food, so why not.

What the trike let me do at first was pedal it out as far as I could pedal, then just sit there and ride it back under power. It became a favorite of both me and Mikah. She walked along side while I pedaled at first then rode back in the basket. In those first days, speed or the lack of it wasn’t a problem. Later I carried her in the basket from the jump. I had Thia buy a pillow for padding. When I got to a good spot, I stopped and let her sniff the area. She wandered around until she got bored. Usually that was before I ran out of coffee, so it worked out well. She loved the ride home under power which let us go at speeds around ten miles and hour.

Out of nowhere I got an offer on the gasoline powered moped trike. I sold it at half price, but It made space for the electric trike in the shed. I didn’t need the Metro Truck, but I just refused to sell it. Every time Thia mentioned it, I gave my dad’s answer to my mother. “Hey it don’t eat, it’s my toy so what?”

Her reply was always the same as well, “What do you need with another toy, after all you have Mica?”

The one thing I learned during that summer was to accept where I was in my recovery. I wasn’t twenty one and I never was going to be again. Being able to go to the store with my granny walker, and being able to load my groceries in a regular buggy was a victory. I could savor every one for a day or so. It was the little victories that I had to learn to accept. Yes there were setbacks, but I tried avoid thinking about them. By August 1st, I was bored with little victories like going to Mary’s diner for breakfast. I drove the Accent out on my own after my morning walk. Mikah lay in the back seat waiting patiently for her share of the bacon, egg and cheese biscuit.