Sunday, May 24, 2015


ALONE WITH THE STAIRWAY

Soon after my release from the hospital in February, I visited home for a few hours during the late deeps of winter up here, to get an early start on the domestic personal Everests.

Primarily I wanted to scale the escarpment of steps to the distant second floor, my first stairway attempt; it loomed in the subjective mists like the Stairway to Heaven. I used a lateral approach without crampons or pitons, going sideways both feet on each step, a long, slow tedious process reminiscent of efforts toward the traditional afterlife.

Got to the summit at last - this was where I'd boarded the comet - caned my way around some rooms, debotted the PC, got out some clothing for Spring, realized for the first real meaningful time that the bathroom was downstairs, now a distant place involving serious rapelling time and reverse footwork logistics - gone the days when these same feet barely touched the steps flying down taking two or three steps at a time - but I have more careful things to do now, more to be hazarded, so it would all balance out nicely, as soon as I got to the bottom...

Endless list of other new tasks to master while my hand and leg are finding themselves. Good thing I love puzzles. The topological problem of putting on a long-sleeved shirt, for example: how can the outside of one side turn behind your back into the inside of the other side? It's literally beyond me. To think that all those stroke-hindered people I've seen in my life underwent and overcame all those same challenges, with so few complaints!

And what a range of them! What? No stair railing on the left-hand side going up? No hand rails in the toilet? At the entryway just one big smooth log? How can even a one-dish meal kinda guy do anything here of the cook-and-carry type while using a cane, with the other hand still in early training and the slow foot without a leg to stand on? Spend a lot of early time eating at the sink, I expect. I've been there, that can be good. I'm also learning to use scissors again; that's always a thrill. Handwriting and chopsticks, on the other hand, are frissons of a higher order.

In any case there's little point in complaining, since you're all alone with the Stairway.




9 comments:

esbboston said...

I am not familiar with the word 'debotted'.

Kalei's Best Friend said...

You may feel alone but you aren't.. Your family is on that journey with you..

Rob said...

You may have physical struggles, but it is obvious from this post that you've lost none of your amazing way with words. Glad to have you posting again! Best wishes for your continued physical recovery.

Elsa Louise said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Elsa Louise said...

Thinking of you. Wishing you well as you work toward creating a new self.

Deb said...


Add to your CV *Mountaineer*!

It's one thing to climb when you are 25 and all your limbs obey your brain, it's quite another when your hair is silver and half of your limbs have (for reasons of their own imagining) taken leave of their senses!

Your writing is as beautifully crafted as ever, and I am so glad to have you back. From the wilds of western Canada, Hang in there!

Anonymous said...

Oh, you are back, how delightful for us. We have missed you and have sent many healing wishes your way.

We must, indeed, bow down to those who have made their way back to mobility and full health after such an event, and to you too, in the middle of that journey. Thank you for sending your wit and insight across the world again as you continue on up your stairway. The stairway is the thing, the only thing, huh? Know that there are a lot of stairs out here too, and your words help make the climb much more entertaining, and possible, for your readers.

Courage and laughter. ---Diana

Nevin Thompson said...

Hi Bob,

I've followed your blog since it began I think, when I lived in Tsuruga. I have of course read your poetry in KJ.

I am very glad to hear you are still around! I know you can recover your mobility!

Sara said...

Welcome back!