Walkin'

Walking.

Those of you who actually read my nonsense on here and Facebook know that I try to walk everyday. Well, yesterday was no exception.

Usually, I walk a half mile into the village of Waterford, stop in McGreivey's for a beer, and walk back. Fine. I'm happy with that, for a guy who shouldn't be able to walk, who was bed ridden just months ago. No friggin' way. I was determined. So I walked.

In the hospital, first it was getting out of bed and into a chair. That took a lot. You have no idea unless you've been there. But my stubbornness can be in my favor sometimes, and I thought to myself that this is bullshit. This isn't happening. Not now. Not ever. Get up

So I got out of bed and got myself in a chair. The nurses were not happy. "You are not supposed to be out of bed!" they'd yell at me.

Hell. I'm old. I've been yelled at lots. My mom yelled at me as a little boy all the time. Yelling has no effect on me.

Then I started walking up and down the halls of the hospital. That really freaked the nurses out. They called physical therapy on me. The nurses quickly learned that yelling doesn't work, so they called in the professionals at walking. And they walked with me.

One guy from PT I really liked. He let me be. At first, he had some kind of a strap around my waist that he would hold on to in case I fell. Later, he would hang onto my arm. Then he would just walk next to me. Sure, I'd stagger a bit. My sense of balance was shot. I have little feeling in my feet which makes walking difficult. I walk like I'm drunk. I still do.

Eventually, I was released from the hospital.

Now I have my own apartment. I'd look out the apartment window wistfully. A nice day. I am going to go for a walk. Unsure of how far I could go, I would walk a half mile to the village of Waterford, stop at McGreivey's, have a victory beer, and walk home. I was very pleased with myself.

Well, thanks to this pandemic, McGreivey's is closed. But I would walk it anyway. Non-stop. That is a big deal for a guy who is supposed to be bed-ridden. But God damnit, I'm doing it. I don't know if it is my Irish stubbornness or my Polish dumbness, but damn it get out of my way.

Yesterday, I went for a walk. Instead of taking a right into the village out of the Van Schoonhoven Square Senior Apartments, I crossed the street. There was a lady cleaning up the end of her driveway. I stopped to chat. Her name is Donna. She and her husband bought the old Fanucci's gravel pit. Twenty acres of gravel pit. They built a house in it. I think that is awesome. Who builds a house in a gravel pit? She said Fanucci stopped digging when they hit water. They hit the aquifer. Water gushed in. The pond in front of her house is forty feet deep, she said. I think that is awesome.

Then, after chatting with Donna, I didn't walk into the village. For some reason I took a left and walked up the hill. Walking up that hill was something I always did as a kid. The Middletown Road hill. I clearly remember walking my bicycle up it as a kid because I couldn't ride up it. It was a huge accomplishment when I could finally ride my bicycle up it. It was coming of age.

And now, at 69 years old, I'm trying to walk it. I can do this. Damn it. Just walk. I stared at the ground, one foot in front of the other. Just do it.

I made it up the hill. I walked on, as I did when I was a kid. I got past Sts. Peter and Paul's cemetery. I shouldn't try for Swayze Acres though. That's a bit too far, I thought. What if I run out of steam? I would have to sit someplace and then someone would find me and call an ambulance or something. Nope. Not happening. So I walked into St. Mary's cemetery.

I paid particular attention to the grave stones. Sure, I saw them as a kid, but I never paid them much mind. Only the Patrignani stone. It had photos on it of the dead people. I liked that. They were real people, but now dead.

I finally made my way back to where my parents are buried. I said hello. I'm divorced now, I told them. I was alone.

I walked out of the cemetery and took a left on Middletown Road towards my apartment. I really wanted to walk Swayze Acres where I grew up, but I didn't know if I could make it. Not yet. A little at a time.

I shuffled along as I always do. Past Prospect Hill, to the hill down to the village of Waterford. Believe it or not, that was the most difficult part of this little walk. Walking downhill. I'm glad I had my cane, because without it I would have fallen. But I made it back, into the apartment building and into my apartment.

Today, I could barely get out of bed. My legs are worn out. My knees hurt. My left hip hurts. But I did it. About a mile and a half yesterday, I figured. I am not going to lay in bed and wait to die. I am going to try for a shorter walk today. But then, one day soon, I want to do the Swayze Acres walk. That will be two miles. I can do this.