Now, here's a trick photo for you, a trompe l'oeil to rival the best. Have a look.
Look once and you'll see--no, not a crone who transforms to a girl when you blink--no, you'll see something more surprising: two stackable steps six inches high a handicapped writer fights daily to climb so he can climb higher to seven.
Why seven? Because that, to my changed way of thinking, is now the key to the kingdom. At year's end I'll move from my small ground-floor studio into a spacious one-bedroom apartment--with an office and I'll be on the second floor, though, with a fifteen-step stairway whose risers measure seven inches. That's a cake walk to most of you; but I'm still recovering from my June total knee replacement and my knee flexion is still less than it should be: 110-120 degrees. At 105-108 degrees flexion, I can climb comfortably up and down the four-inch red base. But the sound effects began when I added a black two-inch second step. My mule-stubborn surgical knee refused to go that distance. How the devil could I ever climb the stairs to my new home?
But wait a sec, I thought one day. I didn't have to graduate from four to seven inches today or tomorrow or even next week. I had five months to make the grade. I tried adding a half-inch hardcover book to the four-inch red base. My knee quietly screamed on the down step. But I held the foot there, embracing the pain for ten, then fifteen seconds. I repeated nine more reps, then did a second set that afternoon. Three days later, I added a second book...and then a magazine...and on until I was able to add a 2-inch black step to the 4-inch red base. Now I add a magazine every day, holding the down step regardless of the agony and asking my knee over and over: 'Who's your daddy now?'
This third month of recovery is critical, for the knee and scar tissue are already fiercely resisting my efforts to stretch. But this fight is winnable if I fight it like a warrior in fractions of an inch.
SPECIAL ADDED ATTRACTION
Meanwhile, my work in progress had been on hold for a couple of months. Recovery was a full-time jog with PT three times a week and home workouts through each day. No end to the stretching and torqueing and bending. And, as you can imagine, by the week it grew harder to think of how I could return to it. My confidence was shaken as never before. For the first time I wondered if the time had come to quit. .
But wait a sec, 'I thought one day. As a veteran of Wounded Knee, I knew I didn't have to return to and finish the book in one move. I had till year's end, as I'd planned, to get the rest of the novel drafted and out for editing. I could start with the smallest of things: organizing my desk, flash drives, and notebooks. etc. Then, as if I were adding a slender zine to a stackable step, I could resume typing where I'd left off, etc.
Sounds ridiculously easy. But once our faith has been shaken, we may need to do whatever needs doing until we can ask an abandoned WIP: 'Who's your daddy now?'
*****
Welcome to MacRathWorld, if you like premium blends of mystery, action, and suspense. From Caesar's Rome to Seattle today, the twists fly at the speed of night. If you're unfamiliar with my work, I recommend starting with the new Seattle BOP mysteries. Here's the link to my AuthorPage on Amazon for a detailed look at the variety of 'rides' in my amusement park.
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