A Farmer’s Walker
Farmers like to trick out their equipment. Melissa’s four-wheeler has a front basket loaded with holders for clippers, a hammer, screwdrivers, and alligator clips for the electric fence. She has rolls of marking tape and a bottle of water and a spot for her chain saw.
So when she came home from the hospital Thanksgiving Day, the proud new owner of a walker, I knew it’d wouldn’t be long.
Sure enough, she spent the first two weeks trickin’ out the walker. I kept telling her she’d be done using it before she got it all set up just the way she wanted it—basket for papers and books, holder for markers, pens, a small scissors, and a magnifying glass for studying the fossils she finds in the creek, trash bag, her cell phone/headset, a cup holder, and her MP3 player. It’s like a rolling office.
But she wasn’t done. Next were the flames and cartoons:
At first she just used the walker in the house, but as cabin fever set in, she used it to walk the dogs down to the mailbox.
She just had her six-week checkup, and all looks great. The screws and cables holding her three vertebrae in place are still aligned correctly and the bone grafts are looking great. She’s supposed to start taking the neck brace off a few hours a day to start conditioning her neck muscles—they haven’t had to hold up her head for quite some time. Then comes physical therapy, and then comes me transitioning from Head Farmer to my proper place as Back-Up Farmer.
Won’t happen for another month, but that’s okay. The animals and I have our routine down now, and things go pretty smoothly. As the cattle and llamas are eating their grain, I stand in the sun, waiting for the water trough to fill, and think, “Hey, look at me. I’m a farmer.”