It has been 4 weeks since my motorcycle accident.
As of yesterday I was finally cleared by my doctor to go back to work.
All of this time away from work, and sword training and mostly staying at home healing has given me a lot of thought about life, priorities, and the way in which I live.
A few insights:
When I crashed my motorcycle for a moment there was a silence, a calm, things were happening I had no control over. I could not stop the bike from rolling, I was just hanging on and going for the ride. Some days life is like that things are happening that are out of our control and all we can do is control our responses.
As I stood up, struggling to breathe, standing on the side of the road both knees bleeding, pants torn, bike laying on its side, and overall in pain, I had some insight. I hurt, but I was alive. My son was not without his father. As much as I knew that the next little bit would hurt and suck, I could debbal with it because there is something inside me that is more than the pain, and that was still here. I did not know what the damage was, to the bike or to myself but what I did know was that I was here, the part of me that really mattered was still here, and I would live to fight another day. Sometimes life beats us up. Sometimes physically, sometimes emotionally and we have 2 options, the first is to lay down and let it win, the other is to stand up and tell the god of death, "Not today".
The ride home hurt, it hurt to breathe, I felt like I could not bend my knees without pain. The nights were testing. We have a small house, but I never felt like the bathroom was SO far away. For a few days I used a walker just so I could get there. (Thank god for upper body strength.) There were trials, and I was not sure some days that I would get past them, but I was alive, so at least there was that. Pain sucks, but death meant I would not get to experience anything else, and that makes me truly sad.
In this I found allies, people who would help me. Doctors who wanted me to heal, family who were willing to help me, and yes sometimes push me to get where I needed to go. My wife brought me food for a day or so, then it was up to me to get up and walk to the kitchen to make a plate. This was not out of spite, but rather she knew that if I sat, and let myself just sit all day and night that I was not going to get better any faster. Some days were harder than others, some days I needed a cane to get around, but she was willing to care for me by helping push me to get better. My doctor had me go to the wound care clinic. The first time I went, they cleaned my wounds by cutting off dead skin and making it all bleed but that bleeding was needed for new, good tissue to grow. It was probably as painful as the accident itself, but it helped so that pain was worth it. Sometimes you have to have allies who are not just going to let you get away with things but are there to push you, or encourage you to push yourself. This includes my physical therapy team who encouraged me to push myself so I could be back 100% sooner.
As of yesterday my knee mobility is back to 100% and I will return to work on Tuesday. I am amazed at what a relatively healthy body can do to heal itself. (I am not in the best shape, but even for being overweight I am pretty good.) The last real revelation I had was this: there is a big difference between pain and discomfort. When I started doing physical therapy, it was uncomfortable. I did not want to bend my leg that way, some staircases looked hard and I was not sure I could do it but I knew that as long as I accepted those limits, it would take me longer to get where I needed to be. In the words of Richard Bach, "Argue for your limitations, and sure enough they are yours." I am now less than a month from the accident and with the exception of some healing on my right knee, I am back. I may not be as fast yet, I may not be as strong yet, but I am back, and that feels pretty damn good.
