Here is the final recovery report. That doesn’t mean I’m fully healed, but the major portion is over and the long process of baby steps will continue for 3 to 6 months. Jean and I will be leaving for Florida on Friday and I will be forced to heal on the beach.

First an update on last week’s report. My conversations with Rush Limbaugh have been terminated about OxyContin. I’m not a big fan of Rush, but I admire his fortitude to admit to the public he is addicted to pain killers and to admit himself to rehab.

Second, sadly Bill and I didn’t get any volunteers to wield the magic markers so we resorted to phase two. Since Bill is working long hours and I’m not, I was assigned the task of creating stencils for the marking. Our thought was to put the stencils on a bench, mark the blank areas with magic marker and then sit on them. Sadly there were two problems. With my brain not fully recovered I put the stencils on the bench so I could read them while Bill slid into his thong. So when we sat on them, the words imprinted backwards. Secondly I used permanent magic markers instead of the washable kind so the mistakes will have to wear off. We looked like dogs with anal gland infections as we scooted along the carpet trying to erase the errors.

I had two medical appointments in Grand Rapids. The first was at Mary Free Bed Rehabilitation Hospital on Tuesday and the second was with Dr. Visser, a Neurologist on Friday. At Mary Freebed test one was to park the car in the parking ramp and then find our way to the 8′ x 8′ registration room embedded within the clinic. With directionally challenged Jean at my side, we were able to find it after wandering through the restricted construction area only once. I met with a Psychiatrist for the first half hour and a Physiatrist the next hour. Both said they were pleased with my recovery so far and I seemed better than they expected after reading the hospital reports from Wisconsin and GR hospitals. The Physiatrist had two recommendations which didn’t thrill me. One was to take part in the Drivers Rehab test to see if I could drive well. Oh by the way, the cost is $900-$1,000 and, oh by the way, it isn’t covered by Insurance. I think I’ll try to entice Ernie (retired teacher, driving instructor, driver’s license tester) to test me at a reduced fee. The second recommendation was to practice having bike wrecks without landing head first. If anyone has football pads and a helmet, I would like to borrow them.

The visit with Dr. Visser was likewise encouraging. I quit taking the pain medications on Thursday and he seemed OK with that. He will continue me on the Dilantin anti-seizure medication for six months, and if no problems, pull me off then. During the mental tests he did find that I was a full inch off plumb which brings me to this dilemma. What do you think?

a) I will never make it to normal and will spend the rest of my life trying to blend in with all you normal people and hide my shortcomings, or,

b) My recovery takes me to exactly where I want to be. I’m different-maybe better, maybe worse, but definitely different.

(choose b, choose b, choose b, choose b)

Early in the week I asked Jean about some of the things that went on in the first couple of days after the accident. I heard things that made me feel uneasy so I don’t want to know the details any more.

To end on a serious note:

A friend held me while I bled on the road until the ambulance came.

Jean pulled out of the race she was doing well in to watch me travel through the darkness.

A friend gave me a medicine bundle to guide me in my return from the abyss.

A friend gave me a finger puppet to entertain myself in the hospital.

My daughter flew from Hastings to Madison to help Jean get me back.

My son and daughter flew back from San Francisco to help me through some difficult days.

A friend gave me an Ironman Wisconsin cap to protect my broken head.

A friend gave me a squeezable ball to release tension during my bad headache days.

A friend gave me a heatable neck ring to ease the tension in my whip-lashed neck muscles.

A friend gave me cookies to nourish me in my recovery.

A friend gave me home-made chicken soup to nurse me back to health

A friend gave me Bell’s Beer to celebrate my full recovery, whenever that is.

Friends and family have sent cards, e-mails, have called and stopped by to see how I was doing.

I spent four years in college and thirty years in public accounting and it took this freak accident to teach me that all of the above is more important than the balance in my checkbook.

I fear the past. The place where I first went was pitch black, quiet, and I was alone.

I fear the present. I’m halfway through recovery, but I know an arm could reach out and pull me back to the black hole.

I’m apprehensive about the future. I don’t know where I’m going but I thank God I have friends and family to help me along the way.

Permanently 1/4 Goofy Jack