Free My Next Step by Dave Liniger Page B

was. I was more worried about her than myself.
    With each and every day bringing me closer to moving on with my life, I had to consider what that life might actually look like. At the time, I didn’t have the mental ability to really consider the options. I still had to learn the basics all over again, like how to eat, chew and swallow my food. Sitting up in bed was considered a great accomplishment—one I met as often as I could, but not often enough to satisfy me.
    My throat remained raw and tender as I tried my best to start talking. I needed to give my voice and vocal cords a rest, so the doctors curtailed visits for a few days. I spent the next two weeks slowly doing some limited range-of-motion exercises on my left arm and leg. The right side of my body was still paralyzed.
    I was finally able to have a shave on February 19 th , and for the first time in weeks, began to resemble my old self. My nurse Jean gave me that first shave. I liked the results so much I asked her do it throughout the rest of my stay. Though she used an electric razor, I was still grateful for her steady hand. It’s a strange experience to look into a mirror and not recognize the face staring back at you. Something as simple as shaving helped me reconnect to my old life, to my old self. It gave me a sense of familiarity that I found both comforting and inspiring.
    My chest tube was removed about a week after my ventilator, which meant I could finally sleep more comfortably than I had in weeks. My breathing had become deliberate and steady, which was extremely encouraging. I was showing all sorts of signs of improvement, so these baby steps seemed to be paying off. I was eager to complement my range-of-motion work with physical therapy, but my doctors said I wasn’t quite ready for that yet.
    When I was able to spend more of my days awake and aware, my neurologist regularly stopped in to see me and was very pleased with my responses to his commands, including his requests for me to stretch my arms, move my hands and fingers and wiggle my toes. It appeared that the paralysis was temporary, but they wouldn’t know for sure until the infection was totally under control. I would have a lot of hard work ahead of me to regain my strength and the use of my muscles, but he was encouraged that I could get there. I was more than willing to do whatever it took to make that happen.
    When I first arrived at the hospital, I don’t believe anyone thought I would be there for an extended period of time. Hell, as far as we were concerned, I went in for treatment of a chronic back ailment and within days I was fighting for my life. In the beginning, I think everyone believed they could keep this a family matter. But as the days turned into weeks, it was obvious that something had to be said, especially to the team at RE/MAX. As so often is the case when people don’t have answers, crazy rumors began to fly about me. There was talk that I was in rehab, had run away with a secretary and was nowhere to be found, and that I was dying from cancer. The wildest of these was that I’d been bitten by a shark!
    Margaret Kelly was beginning to field inquiries about my absence from all over the country. Junior was getting emails, phone calls and text messages from family friends who couldn’t reach me. Mary and Junior had both done an excellent job keeping everyone in our inner circle informed on a daily basis, but even those emails were written in a way that protected my privacy. There was never a single correspondence referencing the chance that I might not make it. Most of their notes were simple, to the point and generally more positive than they should have been. The kids realized that even though it was their father in the hospital fighting for his life, it was also the chairman and co-founder of a very large corporation. They knew the dynamics of the company had to be considered with each and every update they sent out. I was so unstable for the first several