Roughly 20 of us in the outpatient program were treated to an outing to Piedmont Park yesterday, and were provided with opportunities to engage in various outdoor activities, none of which are worth mentioning other than riding a hand cycle. I was first in line to be saddled up onto one of the sleek machines and, before I knew it, was breezing around the park with my physical therapist in tow ("try to keep up" I cockily told him as we set out). What a feeling! The wind in my face, the sweat on my back, and a huge smile on my face. Until, that is, I encountered the first hill, whereupon my pace slowed such that my chaperone dismounted and walked slowly to keep pace with me. To call it a hill would be something of an exaggeration....a slight rise would be more accurate. I thus made the firsthand observation that the muscles of the arms, shoulders and back do not compare favorably to those of the legs in terms of their locomotive capacity. In any case, I was not discouraged, and managed to eventually reach the summit, and enjoyed a lovely downhill coast. With each subsequent lap I got more used to the gearing and figured out how to bring more of the back into my arm strokes, and became a bit more capable (though still quite slow) on the uphills, and more confident on the downhills. After 90 minutes or so I reluctantly dismounted and was returned to my wheelchair, which, by comparison to the bike, felt like an old rusty wheelbarrow. [...]

It finally happened: Monday morning I was deemed medically stable enough for discharge from the inpatient section of Shepherd after just better than seven weeks. Just prior to discharge I had a graduation ceremony in the gym, during which music chosen by me (Everybody Wants to Rule the World) was played, and then faded to background while I was feted by my therapists (occupational, physical and recreational) for my various accomplishments, and festooned with such honors as "Most likely to drop the F-bomb during therapy", "Rule Breaker", and, my favorite, "Most likely to be seen with loafers in therapy" (Thanks, Craig). Naturally, there were no dry eyes (or Depends) following my acceptance speech and unsolicited words of advice to those still in therapy. Having decided to pursue outpatient rehab here as well, we (i.e. Nancy) moved all our belongings and medical supplies to our new home in an apartment adjacent to the main facility provided by Shepherd, and settled in for our first night together since the mishap with no backup. It was just the two of us with no one to help with the various transfers, bathroom activities, shopping, food preparation, making the bed, doing laundry, etcetera. No big deal for me, but a huge burden suddenly dropped into the lap of Nancy, and one to which she has adapted amazingly, and for which I continue to be grateful (let's just say I owe her bigly).[...]

One of my observations while rehabbing is how spinal cord injuries seem to be an equal opportunity discriminator. Sure, it's mostly younger males* (see below for an original bad joke), but we're a pretty diverse group: all socioeconomic sectors are represented, from blue collar to CEO, and everything in between. What has also struck me is the diverse manner in which each of us injured our spinal cords. While there is a unsurprising prevalence of motorcycle, bicycle and motor vehicle accidents, there is a surprising number of freaky one-off mishaps, including falling off of a deck while throwing a watermelon rind onto the compost heap, trampoline accidents, Slip 'n Slide catastrophes, infections, and spinal cord strokes, to name but a few. Without fail it strikes randomly and in a flash, and leaves its victims temporarily stunned and laid low. But the human spirit is more resilient than the delicate fibers of the spinal cord, and before very long the will to live and make the most of what is left asserts itself. I've witnessed it in myself and every one of my compatriots: we arrive dazed, weak, and utterly demoralized, but as the weeks go by the eyes become clearer, the practiced maneuvers more certain, and the spirit brighter. [...]

"When is your discharge date?" "You doing the outpatient program?" These are questions I jealously overheard between other patients early on in my stay, but I am now the recipient of these on a daily basis as I race toward my imminent graduation from this chapter of my recovery next week. A week ago it seemed like wishful thinking, but the pace at which my body continues to strengthen and the maneuvers become more easily executed has left me incredulous at times. Of course the therapists all say, "We told you this would happen", and, of course, cynical me never believed them, but, of course, they were right. [...]

I realized after re-reading my post from last night that I left out one very important point. None of the progress made to date could have been accomplished without Nancy by my side, pushing, encouraging, comforting, making nice with the nurses, changing my sheets, and all the rest that almost never gets its proper recognition. This journey is one that the two of us are taking together, and I couldn't do it without her.[...]

Transfer, transfer, transfer. That's what much of the work I'm doing has lead up to: the ability to safely move myself from my bed to my wheelchair, from my wheelchair to a couch/chair/sofa and back, onto and back from the toilet seat, into and out of a car, etc. I've finally gotten down the mechanics of the transfer, but there are still a few more moving parts, as it were, such as positioning the feet properly so the feet/ankles don't get twisted, or making sure one's junk is kept out of harm's way, but it is coming together, finally, after weeks of baby steps. I had another motor strength assessment today, and have gained some function in several upper body muscles, but there are others that need beefing up, and so I'm getting targeted exercises in the gym from my exercise physiologist, who know just how to hone in on my weaknesses (in a good way). Hard to believe, but they say I'll be ready to graduate from the inpatient unit to outpatient rehab in just two weeks. It seems like there are still so many things I have to master before then, but I'm taking their word for it. Following 3-4 weeks of 8 hour days of OT and PT we will  then be heading back to Virginia, hopefully in time to catch some of the fall colors.[...]