November 5, 2018

I don’t think my therapist will find any issues with an entry a day late, let’s just say my weekend felt like more of a struggle than a pleasure. I started physical therapy this week since I’ve been able to move around without losing consciousness. It’s really simple right now, all they make me do is walk in a pool. I find it quite soothing, but a lot harder than I thought. The water takes just enough resistance off of my leg that I feel confident in not walking like a penguin, and then I step out of the water, and I look like an idiot once more. In my mind, I cope with it by calling it my pimp strut, but I’m a pimp without hoes, so still failing at life currently.

This is the hard part to admit. I really do feel like I’m failing at life because I still can’t really operate on my own. Not the way a man is supposed to. I couldn’t defend the condo or my mother if anyone were to try and break in. Isn’t that what it is to be a man? To be a protector of home and family. What is a man when he can’t fulfill that task? I don’t see any answers yet, only questions. I wonder if I can actually recover. The physical therapy feels like it causes more pain then it relieves. They keep telling me to push, and I do, and they say I can do more, but they don’t know that I can’t. I am giving my maximum effort, but they always want more.

I broke down and asked for the refill on my medications. I just couldn’t even focus on my video games anymore. The pain seemed to layer itself like bricks and mortar until the wall of pain never eased off of my body. That pill saved me from a mental collapse. My mother says it’s okay, that she could see the pain it caused me. I don’t know how she can see something only I can feel. Then again, mothers have a unique talent to connect with their children. Maybe it’s the fact that they give birth to them and growing together like that creates that understanding of suffering. I’m so glad that she is here to care for me.

Really, my mom is the only reason I haven’t gotten closer than the idea of goodbye. I couldn’t leave her behind like that. A dead husband, a dead son, and an empty home. I don’t want to be arrogant and think I would cause her that much harm, but her treatment of me speaks more than she does. I know there are others that suffer more than me. I can’t think of what amputees go through in their recovery process and for the rest of their lives. The only thing I know is that sometimes the promise of no more pain sounds like a pleasant place to me.

A SL and PoS post.