I used to think I was tough. I used to think that Busse knives were tough.
Until the last few years, I had never seen tough.
Kim is taking more falls lately, because she is becoming even more reckless, with her, "by damn, I'm gonna do it" attitude. Today, after her 45 minutes on the treadmill, her pushups and her situps weighted with a ten pound dumbell clasped across her chest, I saw something remarkable. She came to the den entrance, walking down the hall leaning on one wall. She was kicking a fairly large load of laundry in a garbage bag down the hall. When she go to the den, she picked up the bag and swung it underhanded, throwing it maybe three or four feet into the den. Then she let go of the hall wall and moved into the open den, taking one painful step at a time, stopping to reestablish her balance, then taking another. When she got to the bag, she half bent over, half kneeled and picked up the bag. (If you had asked me minutes before, i would have sworn that she could not do that without falling.) She then gently swung it a couple of times to build up momentum and threw it forward another three feet or so. (I would not have believed she could do that and maintain her balance, either.) She progressed all the way across the den into the kitchen, where she proceeded to the laundry room by holding on to the kitchen island and the walls. Why didn't I get off my butt and help her? Because she would have been indignant and angry and refused the help, that's why. I have mostly been reduced by her over the last three years from a caregiver and a wheelchair pusher to a marvelling spectator and cheerleader.
And today the truth finally sunk in, once and for all. She is never, ever going to stop. She will never take no for an answer. She will never give up. Not an ounce of self pity, she doesn't have the time nor the inclination for that.
she got a package in the mail yesterday, a Birmingham Fire and Rescue T-shirt from another admirer, the first EMT on the scene after the hit and run, the guy who took her vital signs, looked at his partner and said, 'she won't live to get to the emergency room." He has kept up with her progress and marvelled, also.
Some people don't believe in miracles. I live with them every day. But sometimes I wonder where the miracles end and the pure cussedness and stubborness takes over.
So you who have met her, who thought of her as just a sweet little girl who has had a bad thing happen to her, don't be deceived. On the outside she is sweet and charming. On the inside she is an alloy somewhat beyond INFI.
Until the last few years, I had never seen tough.
Kim is taking more falls lately, because she is becoming even more reckless, with her, "by damn, I'm gonna do it" attitude. Today, after her 45 minutes on the treadmill, her pushups and her situps weighted with a ten pound dumbell clasped across her chest, I saw something remarkable. She came to the den entrance, walking down the hall leaning on one wall. She was kicking a fairly large load of laundry in a garbage bag down the hall. When she go to the den, she picked up the bag and swung it underhanded, throwing it maybe three or four feet into the den. Then she let go of the hall wall and moved into the open den, taking one painful step at a time, stopping to reestablish her balance, then taking another. When she got to the bag, she half bent over, half kneeled and picked up the bag. (If you had asked me minutes before, i would have sworn that she could not do that without falling.) She then gently swung it a couple of times to build up momentum and threw it forward another three feet or so. (I would not have believed she could do that and maintain her balance, either.) She progressed all the way across the den into the kitchen, where she proceeded to the laundry room by holding on to the kitchen island and the walls. Why didn't I get off my butt and help her? Because she would have been indignant and angry and refused the help, that's why. I have mostly been reduced by her over the last three years from a caregiver and a wheelchair pusher to a marvelling spectator and cheerleader.
And today the truth finally sunk in, once and for all. She is never, ever going to stop. She will never take no for an answer. She will never give up. Not an ounce of self pity, she doesn't have the time nor the inclination for that.
she got a package in the mail yesterday, a Birmingham Fire and Rescue T-shirt from another admirer, the first EMT on the scene after the hit and run, the guy who took her vital signs, looked at his partner and said, 'she won't live to get to the emergency room." He has kept up with her progress and marvelled, also.
Some people don't believe in miracles. I live with them every day. But sometimes I wonder where the miracles end and the pure cussedness and stubborness takes over.
So you who have met her, who thought of her as just a sweet little girl who has had a bad thing happen to her, don't be deceived. On the outside she is sweet and charming. On the inside she is an alloy somewhat beyond INFI.
