Today was good despite it being terrible. Good because I was able to accomplish things despite some situations being totally stacked against me.
I had my regular therapy this morning. It was interesting because of the parallels that I’m drawing to the twins Rahel and Estha in the book ”The God of Small Things” by Arundhati Roy. In a nutshell, that book has somehow captured a bunch of experiences (including traumatic ones) in my childhood, and by reading it, I have kinda relived them and also gained perspective on how things are like for kids in Kerala.
I also realized that the twins are kinda my friends now. Imaginary or not, they are likely to understand and feel the stuff that I went through. Roy’s writing has also inspired me to get back to trying to write my own stories. You know, that thing I keep on trying to make happen, but it hasn’t yet. More on that later.
Sometime later in the morning, I decided that I’m going to take it easy with my physical therapy exercise schedule. Like taking the leg day off, and in my case it is literally taking both the leg days off.
Must have been the beers last night. Oh yeah, I did walk (cough, cough) over to a watering hole last night. Met up with friends from a team that I’m no longer working in, but sure I’m working with.
Why the italics and coughing, you ask? Because I limp/hobble instead of walk.
Okay. But why? Rather, how? And what physical therapy? What’s going on?
Well, well, well. I guess it is time to lay it all out here.
Nine weeks ago
Did I tell you that I’m very much into motorcycling? If I hadn’t, I really should write about it. It’s been going on for a couple of years. Serious stuff. Bought a Honda CB350 two years ago. Bought all the safety gear. Started riding long and regular. More like a mental feat than a physical one. Meditative and awe-inspiring. More on that later.
One bike is not enough for two riders with distinctly different everything, including riding style, temperament, and preferences. The second rider is J, of course. Yeah, he’s also into motorcycling. Pretty much has always been, but has finally turned a corner in terms of doing motorcycling seriously.
This meant borrowing someone else’s bike. Thankfully, my friend and band mate is a sweetheart, and he has been lending his bike for the last two years. But this was tiring, primarily because I had to pick up the bike from his place, which is about 1.5 hours from my place (in Mumbai traffic) and that added about 4 hours of extra ride time on an otherwise 10- to 12-hour riding days.
The solution was simple. Get another bike. So we did. But it was a bit of a rush, and the monetary transactions didn’t go through on the night of the first long ride with J riding with all the newly-bought safety gear.
So the night before, I did my 3-h schlepp to get my friend’s bike. And so we did what we have been doing for a few months.
But this time it was J’s ride. And my friend’s bike isn’t as fast (or safe) as mine. And I ride slower and safer than J. And J rides my bike. I can’t fuck up J’s first big ride. So I ended up making a risky decision with my friend’s bike jamming its brakes on me.
But wait, I was wearing protective gear, right? So no scratches on me. The bike’s got a few, but minor. But then what happened?
So I buckled my knee in an effort to quickly get back on the bike. The incident did happen on a very poor part of the road to Mahabaleshwar (it’s a gorgeous hill station on the Western Graters, approximately 200 km southeast of Mumbai), and there were trucks around, with one kinda heading toward me. So I must have panicked.
Long story short (not really, right) I had multiple-ligament tear of my left knee. This was about two months ago, and I underwent arthroscopic repair two weeks after the incident. Done by my junior from my alma mater, but not at the alma mater, but at a private hospital. Because it would be easier for J to take care of me.
It was painful. Especially the first two days and then in the first two weeks, and so on. J took care of me. Even during the difficult times. I was difficult to be with, and it was difficult for me to be with others, but it worked out.
I was on crutches or hopping in the first 6 postoperative weeks. A week ago, I started using a walking stick. You know, one of those modern ones.
In the 7 days since, I have tried to find excuses to step out of the apartment and walk. The newly unveiled Metro 2A did give me motivation, and so did the walk to the bar to meet my friends and have a couple of beers.
Cut to present
So yeah, I took it easy. My excuse was that I had other problems to solve. Like my relatively expensive MacBook Pro throttling every time I do anything related to video capturing or rendering. I have been in touch with both Apple Support and Logitech Support (cuz the camera’s from Logitech), and despite them both being helpful (or trying to be so), my problem remained.
So I had to figure shit out myself. And I reckoned it was a good enough reason to take it easy.
Also, I had a bunch of walking/hobbling to do. I had an off on Republic Day and my surgeon (my friend) was free to meet, and I wanted to see if he thought I could expedite my recovery.
So instead of doing physical therapy, I watched art lessons on YouTube. Got inspired.
Wait, what? Art? Since when?
Six weeks ago
I was in pain and I couldn’t do the stuff that I used to. So I decided to revisit sketching and painting (watercolors). Revisiting because I used to sketch my lecturers at Medical College, apart from sketching cats.
I (re)started small, but since then, I have gone on to purchase some basic/serious sketching/painting material. I even have a fanny back with art supplies. You know, to pain rocks and stuff on the go.
So far, my primary subject is Blu. In fact, just before I started writing this, I was sketching yet another bust shot of her.
Just like the 1.7 billion people around the world right now, I’m learning almost exclusively by watching YouTube. It’s pretty cool, I’ll say. The video medium does help especially in this case as I watch time lapses of the experts doing art.
Cut to present
So on my way switching between three lines of trains (two Metro lines and a suburban/local), I sketched. On the way back too.
I felt good. Sort of taking pride in listening to art instructors say stuff like, “sketch every day”, “fill up your sketchbook”, “take a sketchbook with you wherever you go” and all that jazz.
But that’s not the only thing. My surgeon/friend concluded that I can indeed start going a bit more aggressive with my transition to full weight-bearing, i.e., without assistance. That’s just great.
In between all of this, I did manage to grab dinner at the Mallu restaurant where I used to grab lunches/dinner when I was at my alma mater, mentoring my surgeon/friend. That felt nice.
And then I come back home and go through a complicate list of steps to try and un-throttle the MacBook Pro. Didn’t/hasn’t worked out. So my only way out seems to be a factory reset. And if that doesn’t work, oh lord, I don’t even want to think that I might need to buy yet another machine!
So in between all of this, I thought I should listen to my instructors’ advice, but on something that I haven’t been spending time on—writing.
And that’s why I’m writing—and presumably you are reading—this.