Counting the Steps

Count the Steps

By Christine Diamond

Walking is new. I didn’t think that standing would take so much effort. I push upward, my feet are somewhat sturdy. The thin legs below me wobble a bit. Sickly from months in a hospital bed. My grey brown beard is the longest it's ever been in my 62 years, not a look I really care for. Now that I'm moving more, hopefully I'll be getting a nice trim soon. I am instructed to move my right foot forward. 

My clammy hands hold onto the cool metal bars with a fierce grip, I feel like I’m going to slip any second and fall. It’s a soft landing in front of me, some kind of blue gym mat would catch my fall. I wouldn’t really be physically injured if I landed on that cushion only a few feet below, but my pride would definitely be hurt.

I hear the nurse urge me again, “You’ve got it, just take one step then we will try another. Just one at a time.” I look into her hazel eyes, so young. How is she already a nurse? she can’t be more than 17 years old, but I know she must be in order to aid me like she is. I see in her eager tan face, such radiant hope. She really thinks I can walk. I point my right toe a little, at least I think it’s my right, and inch it across the mat. It makes a slight scraping noise and then stops. One. 

That wasn’t too bad, I am encouraged by the little success and try out my left limb. This leg is a bit weaker than the other, so I move like a sloth hanging on a tree branch. I feel like I take eons to just get that toe passed the yellow tape on the ground. Phew! Two.

I’m actually starting to sweat. Can I take one more step? I want to quit so bad.

My baggy sweatshirt is soft on my chest, like a cozy blanket, and my sneakers are comfortable. I really do have it so easy right now... Why is this so hard? I’ve walked, jogged and run before. But it feels like my body has never taken a step in my whole life. 

Okay, I grasp on tighter to the poles at my sides. I see my left hand, which is wearing a simple metal ring, reminding me that I must be married. I wonder if my wife has visited and if I would even recognize her. The doctors tell me I hit my head pretty hard when I initially fell. The fear of falling and injuring myself even more grips me, like a hand clenching the insides of my throat. 

I muster up all the courage I can and think to myself, "One little step, I can make it one step at a time." I take a deep breath, the hairs on my chest rise a bit as I release my nervousness and breathe out. *Sigh*

I lift my right foot. As it slowly trails across the mat, making that dumb sound again, I catch my heal on the separation between one blue mat and another. My legs sink down. I’m sitting on the floor. 

Ughhh...I’m counting that as three. Three steps. I will try to get at least one more step in tomorrow. My goal is 4.