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I'm depressed.
Or I might just be having a problem trying to balance reality with a wish for a stronger self.
I didn't take my morning percoset because everything was feeling great.
I was well onto the road to recovery from major back surgery ihad just a few weeks earlier. Time to wean myself off the pain killers, hop in the car, head down to my office, get the mail, and spend a little time hob-nobbing with my compatriots around the water cooler.
Two weeks since spending 9 hours of my life lying prone clamped onto a metal lab table having spinal implants, screws, and other assorted scientific gear surgically implanted into my aging ( gracefully) body, I figured it was time to go out and embrace this big, brave world with a similarly big and bold, full of life, hug.
Yup, new me. The bionic Realtor. Plus, really cool to lift up my shirt and show the 2 huge scars and electrical stimulus machine plugged into my back like a GI Joe Commando to anyone who just wasn't showing the deep outpouring of sympathy commensurate with my ordeal. I wonder if this will get me any points for that Realtor of the Year thing?
So, first the mail, then maybe stop by a few listings and walk perimeters, then perhaps off to consult with the local political denizens of our good community to see what recent havoc they had ravaged upon our beautiful land whilst I was out and under.
Well, the first 124 feet out of the driveway were spent desperately trying to adjust the ergonomic synchronicity between my body and car seat.
The next 556 feet were spent trying to decide if I should turn around and go home and tell any of the neighbors who saw me that I had forgotten our office was actually closed the 1st Monday of every month- and then hope upon hope that they hadn't had their morning coffee, or enough of it, to realize it was actually Tuesday.
O.K., here was the first big turn from local neighborhood roadlet to major artery... with one leg resting on the left dashboard, my butt jacked at a 63 degree angle to the vertical, and my line of sight perhaps an inch above the dashboard...yup, I think I was alright. Piece of cake! Barring anymore red lights, annoying pedestrians ("yeah, you BETTER run"), or any 95 year old fossil stuck in the left lane waiting to make her big Wal-Mart lane change in 1/2 mile, I was on my way! Realtor on a mission.
Now, just gonna' have to explain away those tears of agonizing pain coursing in torrents down my face.
Alright, I admit, dummy thing to do, but for God's sake, it had been weeks since the surgery. It's just a little drive. Let me out!
Anyway. Happy ending. Made it back home. Didn't run myself, or more importantly, anyone else, off the road.
Dragged myself into the home-site, ran to the shelter of mother's little helper (popped a few extra Happy pills), pulled on my jammies, and proceeded to try and work from the confines of my new office in bed.
Ahh yes, and now the new challenge of trying to keep eyes open while writing and generating reports and letters from snuggle-muffle-ous beddie-by.
So, what did you learn, Dorothy?
Well, yeah, the usual stuff, there's no place like home, Happy pills are easily addictive, and you gotta' blog in order to succeed in today's real estate world.
But I also learned to go with it. This too will pass. I'm gonna' be up and running in a relatively short time. I'll continue my quest for people interested in buying or selling real estate, because that's what I love to do and I'm really pretty good at it.
And, I hope I'll take these life lessons, add them to my vault of experience, and be a better father, husband, and Realtor--before something else falls off, needs replacing, or just plain shrivels up and calls it quits.
It shouldn't be this hard getting old.
Sponsored by: http://www.Cville-1st-TimeHomeBuyer.com And
Fulton Gaylord
