Today is a watershed moment in my climb back to normalcy as I prepare for my round of golf this morning. It is going to be sunny and 70 degrees here in Arizona and that does not suck.
I will be attempting to play golf for the first time in about 2 years. My leg just wasn’t ready for much stress on it until now. I am always my own worst enemy when it comes to overdoing it. But today is a much different story.
I am armed with a brand new air-pump prosthetic leg which actually allows a little pivot for my follow-through, so I am stoked. Here is a short video I promised to post:
As you can see, I still got it.
What, I don’t know, but I have it. Maybe not all the way, but I am back!
Doug and I were paired up with the nicest couple from Oregon, Mac and Samantha. Mac was sick-long off the tee. I always watch good golfers to see if there is any small thing I can take away from them to apply to my own golf game. What I learned from watching Mac?
Not in this lifetime.
He routinely sent the ball out 300+ yards with ease and Samantha hit the ball straight down the fairway it seemed like every single time.
My score on the par 72 course was 136, but you would have thought I won The Masters the way I was smiling all over the place. Once again, thanks God. And Karen.
If you live long enough, you amass many accomplishments, some of which you are proud of. This is one for me, but as all great achievements are, it was a team effort.
My PCP, podiatrist, wound care specialist, surgeons, doctors, nurses, physical therapists, prosthetists, et al, helped me get to the point where I felt I could actually regain some of what I felt was lost for good.
My balance was off, I fell a couple times, and I had my share of duffed shots, but I actually crushed a couple drives, made a few putts, and enjoyed every single second of it.
The only bummer was the turkey sandwich I got in the golf course snack bar. The whole wheat bread was moldy.
I actually parred two holes in my round and I’m still smiling about those.
I remember feeling sorry for myself in the hospital after my lower left leg was removed. It was a very dark place to be and I thought for sure that golf would only be a memory. I actually almost gave my clubs away as I thought I would no longer be able to swing them. Now I did have to make several concessions in my round. I sat out four holes to rest the pressure on my leg and avoided much of the steeper hills. I truly let discretion be the better part of valor.
As I was walking to the 18th green for my final shot of the day, I looked skyward with praise and thanks.
I couldn’t resist the urge to drop my final putt and shout at the top of my lungs:
“Take THAT diabetes! You can be had!”
TAKE THAT DIABETES!