I worried. Was I any good to anybody any more? Would I just fade away like some others with MS who wind up in nursing homes waiting for an occasional visit?
I was still trying to heal, but my body seemed to have given up hope. Where I had been able to walk a quarter mile, I was now limited to going from my bedroom to the kitchen, or out to the garden on a good day. Where I had been lifting weights and using various exercise machines at the YMCA, all I could now do was a gentle, deep-water exercise called “water-running” wearing a flotation belt. I would run (or more accurately, walk) through the water and move my arms in various ways (“breast stroke arms,” “rowboat arms”). It’s zero-impact; I couldn’t hurt myself or fall over. Even then, I only had enough energy for 20–25 minutes out of an hour program, at a very slow pace.
But I kept coming to the pool, partly because it got me out of the apartment, and partly because my body wanted to move, and this was the only way it could. The cool water seemed to reduce my pain and relax the stiffness in my legs and back. Having my weight supported by water made it possible to stand straight and breathe better. But the main reason I went wasn’t physical. It was to see my water-exercise friends.
These weren’t close friends. I never saw them outside of class. But I so looked forward to splashing around and talking with Linda, Ken, Judy, and the others that I would drag myself to the pool three times a week, fatigued or not. They weren’t disabled, although Ken was recovering from a heart attack and several of the others had knee problems that kept them from land-based exercise. They ranged in age from thirty to about seventy. They were working jobs, or they were housemothers; they had lives. But they accepted me; they were always encouraging, always seemed happy to see me. When I started to last a little longer in the pool, one of them would notice and mention it, without making a big deal out of it. I didn’t want to let them down, and I didn’t want to be lonely. So I kept coming.
Nice story, David. We certainly live in an interactive world. One never knows how you might be affecting others. The best thing to do is keep your eye on the sparrow and do good works and don’ t quit. Later, Toni
Lovely essay, David. Thanks for calling attention to it. – Ellen
Happy to see this published!
David, I am so glad you still have your earthly body among us others with earthly bodies, and that it allows you to think and write and reflect – and inspire us. Thank you.
David,
I once read a quote (can’t remember from who): “90% of life is just showing up”. Or something to that effect. This has been validated countless times in my personal experience, most recently by you showing up for me just when I needed it. I can only hope to return in kind.
Affectionately,
DJ
Oh David, this is so inspiring! I find that all of your writing creates a place called “hope” even when you tell a story that has sadness in it! Thank you so much for finding a way to point out the rainbows, the sun, and to tell stories with such sincerity and poetry that my world feels better for having read your work! You are a special person!
Thank you, sweetheart. Your essay helped me let loose a few drops of purifying saline. And inspires me to write some stories of my own. (Or have them ghostwritten. ;^)
wow, David- your writing presence is so real and lovely. thank you very much for messages of hope you send to others in many and various ways. you make a difference- what is better than that
David, it’s been a long time since we talked on the phone about my cardiac support program-like 2 years. Thank you for allowing me the privilege of knowing part of your journey. This is especially meaningful to me as I have had to leave the spin bike, tread mill and walking up hills. I am now part of a water aerobics group that is having the same positive effect as your group did. How blessed we are to have options. Thank you so much for your gift and ability to share.
Hi David,
Thank you for sharing your story and insights. It is a powerful reminder about the effects of presence and being one’s self.
I can relate. Group effect cannot be underestimated.
David,
I only hope I gave my clients the same inspiration you give me.
It is the one thing I miss about not seeing patients. They helped me as much as they told me I helped them.
David, I enjoyed reading your essays. Nice writing style. You might enjoy my son’s limericks written under his blog name, Dr. Goose. They are usually about the finance industry. I found that I’ve saved over 150 of them so I am now printing out my own little booklet. Your prose has inspired me to try selling short stories again.
This was a great story. Just like a nurse, I say, as one. We want to be on the “helping others” side, and have a hard time accepting our own worth. I love your website, and the idea behind it. Write-on!
David, thanks very much for sharing this beautiful story!
It means a lot to me and other readers.
And Blessings to both you and your wife Aisha, David!