Strum strummy STRUM strummy strum strummy strum.
Clip clippy clop clippy clop clippy clop.
You can sing this song while riding a horse trotting along.
A stanza pointed out in comments took me back, right back, like Star Trek transported kind of transportation, my atoms disappearing from here and placed there, that type being taken back to the most dreadful episode of my life. It changed me permanently. It ruined my life as I knew it. I died. Truly. The self that I knew died back then and that death drew my whole family together more closely than ever. It changed them all. And that change in them all shows to this day. That episode was the most profound thing that happened to all of us and effects of it on us all is permanent. It drew out their best qualities. And it shows.
The seizures were outrageous, the uncontrolled nerve activity electrifying, like lightning, and finally pneumonia took away my breathing and speech. In what appeared my final moments I asked for mashed potatoes and gravy from Kentucky Fried Chicken and my father and two brothers, who all live separate places, even out in the foothills showed up with a single individual side order that they sell. All three stood at the door way looking at me for the last time alive.
I tried to tell my dad I think it's important for him to know what an amazing father his is. I needed to say that before I passed. But each word required a new breath. It was incredibly difficult to get out. So each word is chosen with tremendous care. It's just too hard to speak. My two brothers were standing beside him, all three looking down with tremendous pity written on their visages.
"That's okay, Son. I know what you're trying to say."
"No! I. must. say. this." And they all three stood there as I continued. It was painful for them just seeing this. Everyone was convinced I would not see the next morning.
But I did.
My job was gone. My career ended. Any aspirations I held evaporated. My new job is try to live. This was the time I gave up sleeping in bed. I wanted to hear the sounds of the street. I still do. Bed is too much like a coffin. Sirens didn't bother me a bit. The television is left on for its sound. I could only have pleasant things on. No gunshots. No fights. No arguments allowed. Just nice things. I left open the door and unlocked so that I could feel the air. Meals were delivered as I recovered incredibly slowly. It took years. This is the point my mobility was forfeited. My legs simply stopped working. For years I couldn't move my toes. But I kept trying. Following possibly three years of trying one toe finally moved a mere centimeter and I called all my friends. That gave me something to latch onto.
I forgot about this.
I had two of these things. I lived with these things for years Completely forgot. Man, are they ever handy. I thought of this last night while getting up to go the bathroom. But because of what they represent I have no affection for them whatsoever. (These people at hospitals think of everything.) I got rid of all orthopedic reminders as well.
Recovery was incredibly slow. It's taken years. I had to learn my new limitations through failure in series. It's why I broke so many bones in my legs and my feet. I fell off bicycles because my leg do not work as simple kickstand. I had to learn that. I just fall over sideways. It's ridiculous. I still fall all the time. But I got a lot better at all that.
My younger brother accompanied me on my first bike ride and to me it was like being reborn.We rode through the streets to nearby Cheery Creek. Rode down the ramp to lovely broad walkway built below street level next to the creek that attracts in-line skaters, bicyclists, joggers, and strollers. A storm was gathering that day. "Let's turn back, Bo, before we're caught in the rain."
I didn't care. It's been literally years. There was slim chance I'd even see this moment and honestly I never did feel so alive. I know that sounds trite, but there is is. I lived it. I'm in it now. I couldn't rejoice more thoroughly for having the chance for this day. It was better than flying a Cessna, better than skiing black diamond slopes. Better than anything up to that point. For me it meant life itself. I'm part of life again. I don't care about protection from weather. If struck by lightning I'd be part of the bolt. I just don't care. I'm loving this too much to care. I'm actually doing this. Like a man starved and shriveled from thirst. I'm having my first drink of life.
The wind kicked up and I could feel it flow around my body so that I'm a fish in water. The temperature dropped and adored sensing the change. The first raindrops fell and I could feel each one individually as if being teased. We became soaked and I loved being wetted my nature. There was no discomfort. None. Only the embrace of nature. It felt like God speaking to me directly in His way. Like God saying to me that he's rather glad that I decided to live. Somehow my younger brother understood all of this. He is such a patient man.
A commenter on YouTube to the song La Bell Fleur Sauvage by Lord Huron that AprilApple pointed to, selected these lyrics that I didn't even hear when I listened.
"Ages come and go but her life goes on the sameGawl! It's like she was speaking to me.
She lives to see the sun and feel the wind and drink the rain" .....lyrics you can breathe.
Also, don't use those bottles. Get up and walk to go wee. When you return and fall back asleep there's your chance for the most outrageous dreams. And I mean it. I'll tell you this one last night later. It's sick.