When I was released from PT, the therapist said, “You can climb mountains.”
Until mid-morning, I walk as though I’ve spent a few hours on horseback, but I rely less on my cane when I leave the house. As I assemble receipts for $11,000 from physicians, hospitals, anesthetists, etc., I listen to Joni Mitchell and John Lennon.
“Carrie get out your cane,” “. . . spread your broken wings and learn to fly.”
I’ve climbed a few mountains in my life, but there are many more to conquer. I won’t be sixty until June . . .