Six months ago right now I was laying in the ICU, having just lost half my foot and fighting an infection in my blood that was an immediate threat to my continued existence. That I was closer to death that day than I have ever been at any other moment in my life can almost get lost in the shuffle now. Today I got up, had some coffee while my cousin and his fiancée visited, then went to the chiropractor, visited my grandparents grave, drove around a bit, and took myself out for lunch. I can walk on my new leg, even hands free. I can drive and come and go as I please. My life is not, and will never again be totally “normal,” but it is trending back that way. I’ll soon return to the gym. I’m making travel plans. You could be forgiven at this point if you forget how close to the other side I was six months ago, it would be fair to say that life has begun to move on. For all things a season, and maybe very soon a new one for me.

Try as I might though, I’m changed by it. Maybe it was the weeks in the hospital bed, alone with my thoughts. The dark thoughts of how close I was to a funeral, and the pondering of who would of been there. There was also the beauty of watching the sun rise over the crosses on tops of buildings in Allentown’s East Side. There was the hours of putting on my headphones and listening to my favorite songs, and how some of them have taken on a different meaning to me now. All I had time to do was think. What and who I found important after hasn’t been the same since.

I’m recovering, and you should view me that way. I’m not quite the same though. I still don’t go out and go to places the way I used to, and only part of that is from physical challenges. I’m just changed by it. In no small way, I find my former self disinteresting. I find important parts of my life feeling trivial. I’m largely unconcerned now, but not in a bad way. I guess something like this just changes how you view people in your life. It definitely has for me, for better or for worse. You don’t just go back to how things were, even as you heal. To do so would almost feel like a betrayal of what was done for you. It would be to sell short the perspective you have been gifted with now.

I’m lucky. Modern science and medicine is amazing, and I’m grateful for it. The doctors, nurses, and techs who took care of me are true miracle workers. One of these days I’ll see the pathway and realize why they did it.