Well, a month since the
helmet meets the road act - time flies when you are having fun. It seems like a year. But what if it was a100 years
ago? Old gravestones often say,
“Thrown by a horse”. Guess
cowboys didn’t wear helmets. Or if
I was still self-employed with no medical insurance, no income and some epic
bills? (Trauma stay alone over $30 grand.) Or no 21st Century man-cave to numb the pain with Stanford
and 49er victories on a big HDTV?
And what if I
had no kindly wife, to keep me alive and take advantage of my mental weakness to work
on my “look”? I’m trying to see at
the bright side here - but from my former image as the “Most Interesting Man in the World”
-
she has shaved me down to a look she declares as “cute”. Thankfully, my vision is a bit fuzzy - but I can imagine.
The bones are indeed
knitting, even took a few shaky steps - but my head still spins, eyes don’t
obey and memories come and go.
Tomorrow I am to start treatment at the VA’s Poly-Trauma Center. I’ve been a volunteer there and seen
what they can do with the wounded heads returning from Sand Land. Young guys with big pieces of skull and
brain missing - up and walking around, saying hello as we pass in the
hallway. Wheelchairs rigged out as
surrogate bodies - with WiFi, Bluetooth and voice activated keyboards. This is the national center for
this kind of injury - those old-time cowboys never had it so good.
I hope they have a trick to
make my month-long faux-hangover go away.
Then I will trade all these crip toys for a new helmet, celebrate with a
short bike ride - and perhaps work on a real hangover.
- Recovering Rod
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