The Brain and the Body

The sun came up over Kandern Monday morning just as it does everyday. Springtime means the golden rays light up this town earlier and earlier, but it was the first day of spring break for me, so I stayed in bed a little later. I took it easy in the morning and stretched my calves without the braces before my grand adventure: walking to the Apotheke. It’s almost exactly half a kilometer from my house, and I needed to pick up some prescriptions I’d ordered.

Vitamin D strengthens determination, and I felt rested and ready to make the trek with my walker. I’ve done it before, but with the muscle cramps in the winter cold, I had put that particular exercise on hold for several months. I was huffing pretty hard by the final few steps to the Apotheke door, and I saw some BFAers come out of the bank just as I walked up.

“My goodness, look at you! Did you walk all this way? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I managed, “I’m going to sit down soon.” 

My verbal skills diminish with my energy after half a kilometer. Actually, my verbal skills pretty much pause entirely when I try to walk well, but let’s pretend it was the distance that made it so difficult to talk. 

I tottered into the Apotheke and sat down on my walker, using the counter to help me turn around. The nice pharmacist gathered my order and brought it to the front. 

“The Epi-pen didn’t come in yet, but we’ll have it tomorrow morning,” she told me as she rang up the other items and loaded them into the basket of my walker. 

I felt the five kilos added to my basket as though they’d been put on my chest. I’d have to walk back tomorrow — could I manage a kilometer two days in a row? I got a brief pause in the middle, but it was still quite a feat for my body. I slowly raised my weight back over my feet and trudged my way out of the store. 

Since it’s spring break, I have a lot more freedom in my schedule to make that long walk happen and have the recovery time on my couch required by the draining of my energy supply. I managed the Tuesday Apotheke run without incident, and I felt ambitious enough after a half hour physio appointment on Wednesday to venture a loop not just around the firehouse but the two other buildings next to it (the retirement home and Hiebers, for Kandern locals). I walked the same route on Thursday, and today I headed down the street to school and back for something different.

Everyday I wake up anticipating new things, and my feet do as well. We still don’t communicate well — my feet and I — but I can sense that they are anticipating something new. You see, the only feeling I have in my feet is the tingling sensation when your foot falls asleep. The prickling with the pressure of each step is reminding me that my feet are still there when my brain forgets — which it often does. 

This week I’m praying that my brain remembers more of my own body as it reflects on the body and blood of Jesus. I teach my students that the resurrection of Jesus demonstrates that the body is something good: we were created as bodied beings, and it’s unnatural the way that my brain forgets the existence of my feet. I want them reconnected, and I’m praying for the nerves to forge ahead in that next step of recovery.