“I’m afraid you will never walk again.” Those words refused to take meaning for me. As Dr. Albert Green leafed through his papers explaining which vertebrae had been fused to what, as if that made a difference, I just kept repeating them to myself, trying to let the message set in. It wouldn’t, and after a while, I decided it didn’t have to. I made a vow to myself then and there that no matter what this quack said to me I would one day make sweet love to his wife.
I knew the odds were against me. Mrs. Green seemed perfectly happy with her husband, I had lost the use of my legs in a motorcycle accident, and we were not remotely each other’s type. But I don’t care how many degrees someone has. No one tells me what I can and can’t do. Not without paying for it.
The insurance wouldn’t cover physical therapy. I burned through my life savings so that twice a week strangers could watch me fail to move my legs. It was humiliating and excruciating but I just kept at it because I knew that my therapist and Dr. Green were close friends. Over time, I got her to spill the beans about all of the holes in the Green’s seemingly perfect relationship and knew exactly which weak points to exploit.
On the nights I wasn’t feigning interest in walking again at therapy I was studying the art of pick-up. Under Sensei Mystery’s tutelage, I gained the confidence I needed to out-score any biped.
I wasn’t about to let the fact that I can’t walk stop me from learning what gym Mrs. Green went to and what the best times to “run into her” were. I didn’t need to walk to compliment her style changes and ask about her day, things her hotshot doctor husband was far too busy to do.
One day I hit a major roadblock. For just a minute, I could feel my legs again. But in the end, when I set my mind to doing something, I don’t let anything stop me, not even a miracle. I knew I needed the sympathy card if I was going to seal the deal with Dr. Green’s wife, so I threw myself down some stairs and stopped going to physical therapy.
Almost five years to the day of my accident, tensions between Dr. Green and his wife came to a head, with a little help from yours truly of course. They had a screaming match, we had lunch, lunch became drinks, drinks became a room at the Ramada Inn. I had done the impossible; ruined the marriage of the man who told me I can’t walk anymore.
I go to schools sometimes to talk to kids about perseverance and I will tell you the same thing I tell them. If someone says you can’t do something, find what they love and destroy it.