When art imitates my life...

it makes me stop and think.  That happened today.  I'm still amazed by how it resonated with me.  I'm still sitting here shaking my head over how I could have been so dumb.

I was sick.  We all know that by now.  I nearly died.  But what most people don't know is that when I came out of the coma and continued my recovery, I'd been flat on my back for weeks.  You can't get up and just resume walking after something like that.  I needed physical therapy and put out a lot of effort the previous time I'd been ill and that was only 11 days in ICU.  I couldn't stand, let alone walk.

And the physical therapists at the first hospital where I was treated were very helpful.  They cajoled.  They encouraged.  They demanded, but not in a sadistic way.  Eventually they got me to stand, with the aid of a piece of equipment.

Then I transferred to a sub-acute facility.  Where the therapist was dedicated but just didn't seem to mesh with me.  As a result I lost interest in physical therapy.  I didn't progress as fast as I might have.  Mostly because I didn't do the required work.

So in the episode of the medical drama I watched today, I saw a woman who'd undergone far more than I did (she lost a leg and had to have both arms surgically re-attached as well as nearly dying) decide she wasn't going to do the work.  And I felt bad.  Not for her.  For not having done better when I was the one lying in bed, feeling sorry for himself. 

Life imitates art.  Art imitates life.  I can't imitate others.  I have to be me.  But I can be a better me.  I can be the best me I know how to be.  That means doing the required work even when I don't feel like it.