I'm doing well. Been taking a bit of a sabbatical from posting, but have been in the mood for a couple of days now. I do intend to drop off for a spell again though. I was wasting too much time posting and needed to clear my head, so to speak. Even when not posting though, I drop by to lurk and check mail. So I'm ghost-like at times of late.
How the restoration of your mobility coming? I hope all is going well and you're on the mend.
The truth is a bit dramatic and may be seen as attention-seeking.
The truth is, I'm pretty fucked. No, I am not mending well - unless you really squint and say things like, "Well, under the circumstances it's pretty good!" Which is kinda fucking retarded.
No, I'm pretty fucked up. I will be fucked up for a long time. I am still in significant pain. I am still very severely limited with my mobility and comfort. I still use three different tools to get dressed, but I can at least dress myself and putting on socks is now less than a ten minute ordeal.
I still can't walk, of course. It will be another year or so, quite likely. It is a long and difficult journey ahead of me. Even after that year, I'll just be learning to walk. It will be up to 18 months and a full recovery is only about 20% likely.
I kind of hope I end up needing a cane. I'm pretty sure I can add a cane to my wardrobe and rock it like a rock star! I'm gonna get a collection of canes and have one for every occasion! I am, too!
Mentally, I'm okay. I should be dead and this is a small price to pay for a life of bad decision making. Mentally, I'm squared away.
Physically, I'm well and truly fucked. But, someday, I will run again.
So, that's the reality of the situation. I'm still very much broken. I will remain broken for a significant amount of time. My physiatrist used to work with the US Olympic track team teaching them to optimize their strides and run the most efficiently. I'll learn new gait mechanics and things of that nature.
I ain't scared.
Sorry to hear all that. The older we get the harder it is to mend. Sounds really dire though, so keep those spirits up, this too shall pass, although it may take a considerable amount of time. On the bright side, from what I think I know - LOL - and one can never be certain, at least you have a good support system in place with people around you that care and all the needed medical care. That's a good part of the battle right there. The pain though ... now that's the killer part, don't let it kick you in the ass ... stay strong and beat this thing!
Sorry, I'm not real good at uplifting Knute Rockne speeches ... just win one for the Gipper, dude!
Feel free to drop me a PM or even an email if or when ya just want to bitch and moan, or just to ease the boredom. I'm always around. I lurk Voat, pretty much gave up on Phuks, but still drop in to check mail, and if I post, I mostly do it here, so anywhere we've crossed paths will get a PM to me. In the meantime, take care and try not to annoy the PT guys, they tend to get you back when you least expect it.
Yeah, there's good odds that I'll have significant pain for the rest of my life. The ribs are doing well, so there's a positive thing. I cracked four and broke three quite well. I have numerous other fractures, but they're small and most insignificant.
I'm not sure how well you've heard the story and I'm just not feeling like typing it all out - it's easily 50,000 words - you know me!
Pictures are worth 1,000 words and I'd like to show you the wreck, but I'm not supposed to have pictures yet. It's still in the impound lot and that's a controlled access facility - meaning only police are allowed in there. If you PM COF, he'll probably describe it for you - but he didn't see nothin'! (I have pics, but a near and dear friend could lose his career because I have them.)
For a while, I had bruising over 80% of my body. There were no serious internal lesions, so I was okay there. All-in-all, this is more minimal than it should have been. Fortunately, the GT350 comes with a built-in rollcage and racing harnesses instead of regular lab belts.
I call PT "Pain and Torture." I swear at them. I tell them how much I absolutely fucking hate them. I absolutely am not getting a damned one of them a Christmas card. I tell 'em that, too.
I tell them that while I'm doing my PT. There have been times that my PT has had tears streaming down my face. They tell me to do 15 reps, I give them 25. They tell me to take a break, I move on to the next exercise. I will run again. I will walk again.
It sucks, but it is what it is.
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