Why would that happen to me time and time again? Why would my eyes tear up whenever I hear or tell this story? Perhaps it’s because walking is so important to me; because if I’m able to walk on my own, supporting myself with a cane for I have recovered my self-confidence, I’ll stop lying in bed; because my memories of lying in bed right after my discharge are so powerful.
Lying in bed meant being powerless, while walking meant being victorious against an enemy who kept me imprisoned inside an immobile body. Walking meant being able to go wherever I wanted. It meant revisiting places I associated with leisure and fun (though this meaning has changed today because COVID has made those places and activities disappear). Walking meant being able to reach the door, open it, and walk on the sidewalk. Walking meant freedom.