On weighing in after two months

I have been weighed. This involved first weighing the wheelchair without me in it. I was then put in the chair. There was a twist to this as Alberto handed me the crane control so I was in charge of the up, down and side to side. I was a bit hesitant and probably over cautious in my use of the device. Then it was off down the hall to a scale. There was a bit of contretemps when Alberto read the numbers off the scale then subtracted them from his earlier reading. This gave a weight that was clearly wrong as it was something like 240. He then rechecked the scale and changed the units to kgs. Then his math gave me a weight of 84.4 kg, which made sense.

My approximate weight before the collision was about 100 kgs, which was a bit too much. I had known I had lost weight, my pictures show it. Subtracting 1.4 kg for fixations and the boot on my left leg, I must weigh about 83 kg, which translates as 183 lbs. This is good, bad and scary. Good, as I had been overweight up until two months ago. Bad, as a fair bit of the weight loss is muscle mass. Scary, as it represents losing about a sixth of my body weight.

Two months to the day since I was hit by the car. Two months of downs and ups which have included traumatic dreams, the odd hallucination, waking up and not being sure I was truly awake or alive. Of being comforted by family, friends and kind patient attendants. Of small but significant milestones left behind.

After being weighed, I went back to my room. An hour or two later, Mummy and the Mole appeared together. Mummy had parked her car in Brossard and biked over the Samuel-de-Champlain bridge, despite the cold but clear November weather. She insisted I photograph the rain spats she’d been wearing against the wind.

After exchanging news, I was bundled up into polar fleece, Gor-Tex and a borrowed tuque and mittens for a trip outside. It was a treat to smell the cold November air. It was suggested that I go further afield, but I am still nervous in the chair in motion. It rolls somewhat unpredictably and the Mole was not wholly confident in his ability to steer it. While we enjoyed the fresh air, a surprising number of wheelchair adapted taxis came and went. At one point, there were three in a row.