Without A Net

Saturday morning, October 6, 2012, 10:12 a.m., Columbus Day weekend. I’m alone until Monday. Nobody’s coming to visit. For the first time, I’m having a panic attack on a Saturday morning. How ironic. This used to be my favorite part of the week, and my favorite time of year. Saturday morning. Fall in New York. The endless possibilities. The whole weekend ahead of me. Gone are the days when I sat for hours in City Diner, reading, and sipping a bottomless cup of coffee while I mapped out my itinerary for the weekend. Gone. Possibly forever. The thing is, I appreciated every second of every day. Every day I thanked God for taking such good care of me. It was like I was waiting for the bottom to drop out of my life. I was too happy. Two years later, I’m having a panic attack, spastic in my wheelchair. I feel like every time I take a step with my cane, I’m walking a tightrope without a net. If I fall, I’m totally screwed.