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Sixty days ago, on a Saturday, I left the hospital with the plan to ride a well-known 25 mile loop home. As I was on call, I wanted to make sure there was nothing pressing in the ER since I’d be about 30 minutes out of range at the extreme end of my bike ride. I walked through the department, saw that it was quiet, and told the nurse, Jane that I was going to ‘make like Supertramp’ and take the long way home. This was in reference to one of the pop icon’s biggest hits in which the lyrics include, “take the long way home.”

Rather than describe what happened, which I’ve kind of done, ad-nauseum, already, on the blog and verbally to family and friends, I’d just refer you to the previous posts categorized as “Post Trauma Day.”

Which brings us to yesterday, my first time in the pool since my injury. I would have went sooner, but I had this scab, and I wasn’t sure how far away my recently debrided tibia was, or how impervious it would be to more than a few minutes under water. I stopped by Pak ‘N Ship on my way to the Y to mail off a crate of clothes, toys and souvenirs that my grand-daughter had left behind after spending three weeks with us. On my way, while listening to Charlie Sykes, I heard that he was going to play a clip of Paul Ryan from the previous night on Chris Matthews, so I listened to that before I went into Pak ‘N Ship.

When I got to the Y, I walked in, talked to the folks at the front desk, who welcomed me back. I walked into the locker room, picked out my customary locker in the second bay and sat on the stool to remove my ankle-immobilizer boot. As I tore apart the velcro straps, the back ground sound of the overhead music playing penetrated my consciousness.

What do you think was playing?

Supertramp,of course…”take the long way home.”

What are the odds?

Is there a God?

What’s my special purpose?