Scoody
No longer a newbie, moving up!
- Joined
- Feb 18, 2011
- Messages
- 396
- Reaction score
- 125
- Location
- Texas
- Can others edit my Photos
- Photos OK to edit
This past week I picked up a camera for a paying gig again after a four month hiatus. This past October 6th I was out riding my motorcycle with a couple of friends. We were ripping the curves pretty good. I pushed it a little too hard and high sided into the ditch at 85 maybe 90 miles an hour. Suffered a lot of serious injuries. I broke my left arm, broke 9 ribs, all on my right side. Punctured a lung, lacerated my liver. I ripped a chunk out of my left leg to the bone. Peeled a slice from my right leg. While the broken bones have healed, the injuries to my legs have not. My left leg actually had a drain tube on it until last month. They still look like someone slapped a raw hamburger patty on them.
The first month was the worst. I had great difficulty getting out of bed. This led to me have having accidents. Shitting and pissing myself in bed way too often. The pain, the difficulty walking even with the use of a walker made it easy to get depressed. I could not wrap my mind around being so helpless. I grew up breaking horses. Boxed in the Texas Golden Gloves. Was awarded a college football scholarship. Served in the Army during the Panama Invasion and Desert Storm. I was alays a take charge kind of guy. I always prided myself on never showing a weakness. Now here I was, unable to even wipe my own ass.
In all of this, the soul who became my rock to lean on, my port in a storm was completely unexpected. It was my dog, Polo. Polo never left my side. He would help me out of bed. I would hold on to his collar and the would help pull me to my feet. He would walk me to the bathroom and wait by the door to guide me back. If I needed more help than he could provide, he would get my wife or my son.
I am not 100% yet, but I am well enough to start taking on gigs again. Between my dog and my work I should be okay.
The first month was the worst. I had great difficulty getting out of bed. This led to me have having accidents. Shitting and pissing myself in bed way too often. The pain, the difficulty walking even with the use of a walker made it easy to get depressed. I could not wrap my mind around being so helpless. I grew up breaking horses. Boxed in the Texas Golden Gloves. Was awarded a college football scholarship. Served in the Army during the Panama Invasion and Desert Storm. I was alays a take charge kind of guy. I always prided myself on never showing a weakness. Now here I was, unable to even wipe my own ass.
In all of this, the soul who became my rock to lean on, my port in a storm was completely unexpected. It was my dog, Polo. Polo never left my side. He would help me out of bed. I would hold on to his collar and the would help pull me to my feet. He would walk me to the bathroom and wait by the door to guide me back. If I needed more help than he could provide, he would get my wife or my son.
I am not 100% yet, but I am well enough to start taking on gigs again. Between my dog and my work I should be okay.