Monday, I graduated. From physical therapy. It felt good. And weird.
The good part: Who wouldn't like to know that his surgically repaired leg is functionally comparable to its un-operated on neighbor?
The weird: Any previous graduations that I can recall (all education related) came with a comforting sense of finality; I knew I wouldn't be doing over, say, high school or college. Not so in this case, as a surgery and PT-free future is promised to no one.
Of course, there are both productive and preventive steps I can take to keep myself in working order. That doesn't mean, though, that I'm not staring across a vertiginous chasm of new risk/reward calculus. Anticipating a sportier future after five months of diligent rehab, I miss my former aura of invincibility -- false or not.