Limb down!! Limb down!!

I sprained my right wrist moving equipment yesterday, and it hurts like a mo-fo. It's quite humbling to lose use of a limb; frustrating also. But in comparison to people who have lost their limb(s) indefinitely, I can only imagine the level of difficulty their lives must be, even emotionally. I am thankful because I know I will heal in a week or two, but I feel I would be insensitive if I didn't take a moment to pray for the people whose lives are impaired by permanent handicap. I have much more respect for these individuals.

One person in particular that comes to mind is this older gentleman that I see sometimes at the swimming pool at my gym. He comes with his plastic grocery bag holding his goggles and shower stuff, wrapped around the handle of one of his 2 crutches as he limps into the pool area. His left leg is noticeably shorter, limp and about 1/4 the size of his good leg. It doesn't reach the ground. I can safely assume his handicap is permanent because it's been about 2 years since I first saw him. To get from the wall to the pool, he slowly hops over and sits on the ground and slides into the pool. I get nervous watching sometimes because the pool deck is ultra slippery--even for a person with both their legs. He has perfected his approach. He has to.

Swimming is a need-all-your-limbs type of sport. If you don't know, effective swimming requires strong kicking to keep your body streamlined with the plane of the water and to propel you and make work easier on your arm strokes. It's super great exercise when done consistently.

After finally getting into the pool, he slips his goggles on, loosens his skinny arms, and then hops off his good leg to push himself upward. Usually its supposed to be foward, for him its upward. After a second his legs float up and then he begins his arm strokes. Man, it is sort of hard to watch him swim in such a contorted fashion. When I first saw him, I wanted to yell out "KICK!!!" because his body was about 45 degree angle. From the back, his body sways side-to-side, sorta like a snake on the ground--totally not streamlined! At best, I've seen him swim a 50 (2 x 25 laps) straight; most of the time he swims one lap at a time and has to rest. To illustrate the duration of a 50 for him, (I swear, this is totally not to boast), I can swim a 100 before he finishes his second lap.

Yet as hard as it looks, he is able to endure for an hour. To get out of the pool, he backs into the corner and using both hands, he pulls up and sets himself up on the pool deck. He then rolls over to the side where his good leg is, and pushes himself up and then hops over to the wall for his things.

I think the next time I see him, I will finally meet him (I feel like a dork, cuz I've seen him for the past two years and don't even know his name-only managed to say hi.) Since I see him pretty often when I go swim, I will make it a point to get to know this fellow. Watching him has helped me understand a good deal of how to persevere under hardship and handicap, in this case. He has accepted the reality of his life, and it seems like he is doing just fine. When I look at my current temporary injury, I can't help but be frustrated. It's so convenient for me to complain about everything under the sun and be selfish about it. I think pain or impairments, whether physical or not, whether permanent or temporary, has to be seen with a greater perpective than we are initially willing to consider. I think its a lesson in truthfulness that I am still processing.

This post is dedicated to the guy at the pool-whose name I promise to know before this summer. I wrote this entire thing with one hand because that is the best I can do now.