Night Walker

My auntie shared such a lovely dream with me on Saturday.

She has been suffering with a bad hip for a long time now, so the simplest actions-like walking or standing, for instance-are now incredibly challenging.

But all that changed in her dream.

"I was walking," said my auntie, who will undergo surgery in the coming weeks. "I couldn't believe it. I told people around me, 'look, I'm walking!'"

It was so painful to hear this because she walks with such difficulty now. I can remember when she was hiking all over Manhattan, but now it takes her so long just to pick up the phone.

Dreams provide fertile ground for wish fulfillment, of course, which is all well and good until the cruel light of day breaks in and ruins the dance.

I wake up most mornings expecting to get up and walk around my home like I've always done and then I realize that I'm wearing these massive leg braces and that every single move has to be planned before being put into action-and that action has to be quite slow.

I'm feeling a little better, a relief from last week's abominable cold, although I'm still watching too much TV. I've also had all sorts of people visiting my apartment.

A physical therapist has been stopping by to work with my imprisoned legs; a home health care aid helps me with cooking and light cleaning, and a few nurses have come by to see how I'm doing.

Come On Up

I think I've had more people here than I've had since I moved into the place seven years ago. I've got a lock box hanging on the front door with a set of keys so people can come upstairs.

I remember when my parents had health care aids to help them around the house. I like to tell myself I'm not in their age bracket yet, but then I see this guy inching around the apartment with a walker or a cane and I start to wonder.

I've always talked about getting out more and I've done a fairly good job doing that-with the occasional wonton soup Friday night in front of the TV-but I really see how uptight I've been most of my life.

Whenever I go on a trip I'm always worried something bad will happen to me while off I'm in some distant location. Yet this accident is arguably the worst injury I've ever suffered, and it happened five blocks from my house while I was coming home from the supermarket.

I look back to when I first got hurt and I see how fearful I was. I couldn't imagine that I'd be able to walk up a flight of stairs, dress myself, or go to the bathroom without a nurse watching out for me. Yet I'm doing all these things now.

Once I'm free of these braces I really want to get out there more. Even if that means just walking up to one of the local bars to listen to the jazz band. It's better than hiding in my apartment.

I've threatening to take make a short film for decades now. Enough talking. Also, I'd like to take a stand-up comedy class. People tell me I'm funny. Maybe I should try being funny on stage.

It's time to do less dreaming and more living.