Posted 2019-01-21T03:31:19Z

Physician, wheel thyself.

As hoped, I succeeded in returning to full time work as of mid-December. The gradual ramp up over the preceding month helped me in building up my physical and mental stamina, but I was still unprepared for the sense of fulfillment I experienced at the end of the first compete week of work. It truly felt like a homecoming (but without the part where you don't recognize half of your old classmates) thanks to my patients and co-workers. I have a fair number of patients who have completed treatment and now come back for a checkup every six months. Many of the patients I saw in June just prior to the three week vacation that started with my mother's unexpected death and ended with my accident, were the very patients I saw again during the first month of my return. Almost all of them knew of my accident, and their concern for my wellbeing and pleasure at seeing me back at work was touching beyond words. It was almost as though they had come to check up on me rather than to be checked on. All expressed that they'd been praying for me or thinking about me, were proud of me, and wished me well in my ongoing recovery. To say that I've gotten more out of these encounters than my patients have would embarrass even Dr. Obvious, so I'll just say that it's been very gratifying.

Seeing new patients, on the other hand, has been a somewhat different , but no less enjoyable, experience. Most, I think, do not expect their physician to roll into the exam room in a wheelchair. Initially, I self-consciously watched their eyes dart to and away from my wheelchair in those first few moments. But once I introduce myself and begin breaking the ice, the wheelchair seems to disappear as we delve in to why they are there, what can be done, and, most importantly, what type of insurance they have (not really). Only toward the end of our discussion am I occasionally asked why I am in the wheelchair, but this part of our conversation is usually short and to the point. I don't shy away from giving details, but most don't press me for them, and seem surprised that it had happened so recently. If anything, the fact that I'm in a wheelchair seems to create something of a bond between us, the solidarity between fellow wounded travelers, or something like that.

A particularly fond memory of those early weeks will always be of the time I was bending forward in my chair to examine the leg of a new patient with skin cancer. As I leaned in to get a closer look an unmistakable sonorousness escaped from the nether regions of my lower gastrointestinal tract. I quickly apologized to my patient and her husband, to which she graciously replied, "hey, it happens". Indeed it does, but hopefully not again anytime soon.

Things I'm not super stoked about include frequent shoulder pain from pushing myself around, constant neuropathic pain in my lower body and hands, and multiple UTIs. I realize that these are things I just have to learn to live with, and that I should just accept this fact with grace and equanimity. To a large degree I have tried to do this, but I will admit that there are still moments of frustration, impatience, sadness, and anger, to name just a few of my closest friends. But they always eventually take their leave and allow me to get back to the business of living and experiencing this life as it is in the flesh, not the mind.

So, today, on the six month anniversary of my accident, I pause to reflect on just how far I've come since that fateful morning. Yes, my body was badly broken, and there are losses that can't be recovered, but I've recovered to the point that I've returned to doing the work I love. I'm back in my own home, driving, and am able to do many of the things I could do before the accident. Most of them take much longer than they used to, and so I'm learning to be a bit more patient (a virtue, I'm told). I've gained a greater appreciation of my loving and supportive family without whom I couldn't have made it this far, of our friends and neighbors that have helped us out in so many ways that it would be impossible to pay them back, and of the importance of making the most of every moment we're given. We all live under the comforting illusion that our lives are safe, stable and secure, but life can change in an instant, as it did for me. So live each day to its fullest, go ahead and eat that donut, but don't forget to take your fiber supplement (and to pack a spare pair of undies).

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