And I got on that stationary bike in the physical therapy room of the hospital. The one that has teased and taunted me lo these many weeks. And I was spinning. Three hundred and sixty degrees, I followed the pedals around.
And it was glorious.
And then I walked around my neighborhood here in Ho Chi Minh City, Viet Nam. Without a crutch. Granted, they were short, slow steps, and my gate was wonky, and at times my right leg was a little wobbly, but I. fucking. walked.
And it was glorious.
As you may recall previously here on the Gecko’s Bark, I had been disillusioned, as I had been literally stuck at 100 degrees, in terms of my ability to bend my injured leg. But after a week of somewhat aggressive stretching — frequent and just to the point of pain and a wee bit beyond at times — today I could bend my leg 115 degrees.
And today I got on the stationary bike, and instead of rotating forward, and stopping when I couldn’t bend my leg any farther, and then rotating in the opposite direction until I reached the same point again — I’ve been stuck doing that for three weeks now — today, I sent those pedals through 360 degrees of rotation. I could feel the tightness in my knee, but it didn’t hurt.
It was bliss. Mistress Lien, my therapist, had to um, firmly insist that I step down after 15 minutes — and she kept insisting, firmly, that I wasn’t to spin faster than 25 kilometers an hour on the lowest setting of resistance.
And she also decided after doing a bunch of new exercises — oh, she was cruel mistress today, my physiotherapist — that my atrophied gam had recovered enough strength that I should begin walking around without the crutch. More than just around my apartment.
Outside. In the world. Walk. Around. Without a crutch.
It was scary. Like the first time you have sex is scary.
And I did.
Walk, that is. And my entire leg is tired and sore, my hip flexor, which has to pick up the majority of the slack by my weak-ass quadriceps and hamstring muscles, not to mention my abused calf muscle — well, let’s just say it’s a good thing my hip flexor can’t express itself in words. Because it would be cussing a blue streak that would make a drunk sailor blush.
As for the point of injury, it’s very sore and puffy … kinda like after the first time I had sex! *insert rim shot here*
But I walked. And I spun.
Stick it up your ass, Universe. Blow me, Fate. I can walk again.