Reclaiming My Body Is Not A Group Decision

I played pool last night. And I walked in wearing sneakers.

Yeah, I ditched the boot. I didn’t wear the wrist brace either. Not because I’m reckless, but because I’m rebuilding strength. Braces are great for support. They’re also great at slowing recovery when it’s time to start using the damn thing again.

It was my first time playing since the Wednesday before the accident: October 22, 2025. Like the first time I showed up there in a walker, people came up and told me how glad they were to see me out. That part was good.

Then someone on the other team decided to weigh in.

They suggested I was “fucking up.” That I should be sitting down, keeping weight off my foot. Someone who knows absolutely nothing about my injuries. Nothing about my pain. Nothing about the road I’ve already walked to get here.

So maybe I need to explain this better.

To anyone questioning how I’m handling my recovery, imagine where you are right now. This exact moment. You probably have plans-dinner, drinks, errands, work bullshit, something you promised someone you’d do tomorrow. Maybe a massage this weekend. Meetings lined up. A life in motion.

Now imagine that, without your consent, someone steals the next three months from you.

Out of nowhere, they threaten your life. Drop you into the hospital system. You wake up a week later and every obligation you had has passed. You failed them all, but hey, upside, you don’t even remember it.

Those three months? Gone. Reassigned by someone you don’t fucking know.

Instead of shopping for your best friend’s birthday, you’re learning how to transfer from a bed to a wheelchair using half your body. Instead of planning a work party, someone’s installing handrails around your toilet so you don’t fall and die while trying to piss. Instead of cashing in that gym membership, you’re relearning how to bathe, do laundry, and wash dishes.

By the second month, your ass hurts and you’re bored out of your goddamn mind. You’ve dealt with medical bureaucracy before, so you start taking ownership of your healing.

And suddenly, everyone has opinions.

Family. Friends. Side-eyes. Warnings. That look people give you when they think wanting your life back is “reckless.”

You imagining this yet?

Good.

Welcome to my fucking world.

Now picture this: you’re sitting in a big building full of people you don’t give two fucks about. You stink. Your ass hurts. You have to pee.

Instead of disturbing a nurse so someone can stand outside the door while you try to be human, you decide to handle it yourself.

You transfer to the wheelchair. Roll to the bathroom. Transfer to the toilet. Do your business. Start transferring back to bed, and a nurse walks in and says: “You’re not supposed to…”

Not supposed to what?
Get better?
Get better at doing things myself?

Then why the fuck did you teach me how?

And right there, it lands. You are the only person invested in your actual recovery.

Not the nurses. Not the doctors. Not the physical therapists. They’re there to administer healthcare while minimizing liability. They don’t have to reenter your life in two months. They just have to make it to dinner.

So you start growing callouses on your ears. You push your body. You discover you can do more. You push again. Every day. For two straight fucking months.

And then — then — when you finally show up to a piece of your old life, walking in wearing tennis shoes, almost looking normal, some asshole questions how you’re reclaiming your autonomy.

Would you be pissed?
Yeah.
Defiant?
You’re goddamn right.

Until you’ve sat through months of recovery alone, you haven’t earned the right to question how I handle mine. Plain and fucking simple.

So let me be clear about what’s going to happen next: I will ride again. Soon.

People will ask dumb shit like, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” or “Do you really think you’re ready?”

Fuck off.

I will ride again. I will drop my bike off at the mechanic by myself. I will return to work on January 18. I will walk into my office like I own the place.

And anyone who tries to stand in the way of that will find themselves benched for the remainder of my recovery.

Plain and fucking simple.