I took off the training wheels today. The idea was to bring the cane to walk from the car to the building and then later to the cafeteria, and then not use it for any shorter jaunts, but I forgot it this morning and only remembered when I was on the elevator. So far, so good; I even walked up the stairs to the 8th floor after lunch. (I can do that while keeping my foot flat, so there’s no bending or extra weight on the sore part. Down is worse.) The only problem is that I tend to roll my foot to the insde as I step off it to keep weight off the strained part. It is very hard to consciously walk normally. I’m in sympathy now with the centipede who was asked, “How do you manage all those legs?” stopped to think about it, and never walked again.
Life is being its usual self; today so far I’ve heard about a death and an upcoming birth. The death is distant family, someone I’m related to by two marriages and have never met. I’m sad for her daughter, who is pregnant (not the one I heard about today) and will send a card, though the daughter is someone I normally find hard to deal with. The birth will be the daughter of someone whose steady babysitter I was. I’ve only seen him a few times since I graduated college, but I don’t get the impression he’s a different person than he was at 4 or 10; steady and responsible, technically inclined, somewhat inclined to be in the background relative to his boisterous brother. A good guy. I think he’ll be a good father. His parents were mentors or adopted older siblings to me during my own adolescence, and I’m sure they’re over the moon. This baby girl will come into a wonderful and absolutely supportive family – in fact, they were the ones who first showed me that you could not only love your family but like them as well, and enjoy their company. I hope she will take root and flourish in the love around her.
I think this makes me a grand-babysitter.
When going downstairs is harder than going up — it often happens during recovery — go down backwards.