I think it’s gonna be quite a while before I get back to the level of posting I was doing on Pope County Majority—if I do.
For those who have been wondering why I have been absent, the answer is pretty simple. For the past couple of weeks, my attention has been focused on something a little more immediate than the local subjects I usually post about.
An accident left me with three broken vertebrae and six cracked ribs. Since then, I have undergone spinal surgery, spent time in two hospitals, and am currently participating in an inpatient rehabilitation program.
Needless to say, none of that was on my calendar.
Like most people, I expected this year to unfold in a reasonably predictable fashion. I expected to continue doing the things I normally do—posting on Pope County Majority, sharing photographs and images, commenting on local happenings, and occasionally wandering down whatever rabbit trail caught my attention.
Instead, I found myself learning far more than I ever expected to know about hospitals, surgery, rehabilitation, walkers, wheelchairs, and recovery.
The surgery was successful, and for that I am grateful.
Modern medicine is a remarkable thing. The surgeons repaired what needed repairing, and the focus quickly shifted from treatment to recovery.
That recovery process continues today.
One thing I have learned is that rehabilitation is not something that happens to you. It is something you participate in.
Every day includes exercises, walking, instruction, and activities designed to improve strength, mobility, endurance, and independence. The therapists maintain schedules for a number of patients, and when my time arrives, they make sure I have plenty to do.
I have discovered that rehabilitation professionals are generally pleasant people who smile as they assign work.
A lot of work.
Fortunately, it appears to be helping.
I am stronger today than I was immediately after the accident.
I move more easily than I did immediately after the accident.
I have more endurance than I did immediately after the accident.
Most importantly, I can clearly see progress.
Sometimes that progress is obvious.
Sometimes it is measured in smaller increments.
But it is there.
One thing that has surprised me is how quickly ordinary activities begin to feel significant. Before the accident, I never gave much thought to sitting in a chair, moving around a building in a wheelchair, or sharing a meal with family.
Now those things carry a little more meaning.
Between therapy sessions, I often spend time out of bed in a wheelchair. Sometimes I move around the rehabilitation unit. Sometimes I simply spend time in the dining room. Some of the best parts of the day are having lunch or supper with my wife or daughter instead of eating alone in a room.
Those moments may sound ordinary.
They are.
That is exactly what makes them special.
Recovery is not measured solely by medical charts, therapy goals, or test results. It is also measured by the gradual return of normal life.
A conversation.
A shared meal.
A visit with family.
The ability to move around independently.
The opportunity to participate rather than simply observe.
Those things matter.
As I have worked through this process, I have had plenty of time to think.
Hospitals are excellent places for reflection. There is a lot of time available for thinking, especially during those early morning hours when most of the world is still asleep.
One thought occurred to me around 3:30 one morning.
Perhaps the rest of life should be viewed as ongoing rehabilitation.
That idea has stayed with me.
Throughout my career in the nuclear industry, continuing training was a fact of life. Nobody ever reached a point where learning stopped. Nobody ever reached a point where improvement was no longer necessary.
Learning continued.
Training continued.
Improvement continued.
The goal was never perfection.
The goal was continual progress.
The more I thought about it, the more I realized that rehabilitation may not be much different.
At some point, the formal rehabilitation program will end.
The therapists will decide that I have achieved the goals they established.
The doctors will determine that my recovery has progressed as far as they reasonably expect.
I will leave this facility and resume a more normal routine.
But I do not think that should mark the end of rehabilitation.
In fact, I think it should mark the beginning of a new phase.
My goal is not simply to recover from this accident.
My goal is to continue improving.
I want to continue building strength.
I want to continue increasing endurance.
I want to continue improving mobility.
I want to continue doing whatever I can to remain active, capable, and independent.
Those goals are worthwhile regardless of age.
At seventy-four years old, I have no illusions about getting younger. None of us are moving in that direction.
But improvement is still possible.
Progress is still possible.
Growth is still possible.
And effort is still worthwhile.
Looking back, it would be easy to focus on the accident, the injuries, the surgery, and the hospital stays.
I prefer to focus on something else.
I prefer to focus on the success that has already been achieved.
The surgery was successful.
The recovery is progressing.
The rehabilitation is working.
The future looks considerably brighter than it did immediately after the accident.
There is still work ahead.
There will undoubtedly be challenges ahead as well.
But there will also be continued progress.
So while my posting may remain lighter than usual for a while, please understand that I am still working on a project.
For the moment, that project is rehabilitation.
And unlike the formal program I am currently participating in, I do not expect that project to end anytime soon.
I intend to remain on that path for a very long time.
