Where the Time Goes

 At the beginning of October, I went around to several of the people—therapists and other care givers—at the care center (called by the affectionate nickname of “Kumakoko”) where I have been a regular user since shortly after release from my long hospital stay. I thanked each for their support over the three years that I’ve been a patron, first in day care and now in half-day rehabilitation, and asked for their further cooperation in the coming year. Three years and starting on a fourth is a long time, but the medical and therapeutical consensus is evidently that my progress has been rather quick, not to mention more successful than originally expected. I certainly can’t dispute that I’m far from the permanently bed-ridden or wheelchair-restricted original prognosis.

 It has been longer than I’d prefer, but I can’t deny that I’ve come quite a long way, thanks to a lot of support and effort from those around me, pros, family, and friends, and, I suppose, to my obstinacy.

 I have of late settled into a routine of sorts, with each week differing only slightly from the one before or after. The focus is firmly on rehabilitation, aiming at an ideal of return to full mobility, and that requires an investment of will, of concentration, of energy, and of time.

 Most Monday mornings begin with a visit from physical therapist Takaoka-san. He makes suggestions, explains tactics, monitors progress, and guards against accidental injury in real-world activities such as using escalators, walking on uneven surfaces, climbing steps and slopes, and surprisingly tricky household tasks such as hanging out laundry or taking out the trash.

 Tuesday through Friday mornings I get up early, drive over to Kumakoko, and engage in activities involving a treadmill, stair climbing, several machines for leg and torso exercises, diverse walking techniques, various dumbbell exercises, and monitoring/planning discussions with the therapists and Aoki-san, my care manager. After two or two-and-a-half hours of that, I head for home, sometimes with a stop at the local bakery or the gas station.

 Weekday and some weekend afternoons are devoted to whatever work I might have, whether from my contract employer or from my various freelance clients. The computers and the smartphone get a lot of use, as do my webcam and recording software applications.

 If the weather permits it, very early Saturday mornings I drive over to the nearby Kumagaya Sports and Culture Park, and do a couple of round trips walking up and down the slopes of a bridge on the grounds near the rugby field, one of the relatively few slopes in this mostly flat alluvial plain town.

 Sundays I generally take it easy, try with very limited success to catch up on my email and other computer stuff, and so on.

 During the month there are a few other activities more or less beyond the routine. I do a lot of cooking, go out shopping, do a monthly doctor and pharmacy trip, and occasionally visit local restaurants or pubs.

 As usual toward the end of the year, I reflect on the passing of time, review a lot of memories, and make tentative plans for the future. “Who knows where the time goes?”, and variations on that theme, have been said by those around me, and by me as well, many times over the years. Right now I’ve got a fairly firm grip on that, because it’s easier when you have a mostly routine existence, but we’ll have to see what the future brings.