The worst part of my accident wasn't the injuries, the pain afterwards, the limits on what I could do physically, the surgery, or the pain after that.
The worst part was the cognitive and emotional consequences of the anesthesia . . . and the worst part of that was not realizing how bad off I was while this was happening.
At first, I thought being in a funk and foggy-headed was a consequence of the trauma and the painkillers, but then the dark, hazy state continued. And continued...
Even after weeks of rest and recuperation, I found myself zapped of my usual enthusiastism and bubbliness. I couldn't get motivated; I was tired all the time. Sleep often seemed like the best—and sometimes the only—choice.
Email started piling up and projects kept backing up. I had to postpone some engagements and cancel others. What's worse, I kept making mistakes that were out of character for me, thinking each was a seperate incident . . . until they started adding up.
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Dear Larry, I am touched about your honestness and your claer awareness (through movement) and I wish you a wunderful and nurishin... -
Very happy to see things are settling, Larry. And spending a planned, semi-mellow summer at home sounds delightful!
The first module of Mastering the Method began in Melbourne as scheduled—even though it was only two days after the accident where I had broken my right arm and sprained my left knee. Those few days were haunted by one question: "How can I teach a course that highlights hands-on technique with my arm in a sling?"
At our first appointment my orthopedic surgeon,