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Show 399 She had already taken my wheelchair down the steps and as we pass by it, she grabs it with her other hand, towing it along behind. If I cannot make this trip by myself, it will give me a ride, she has said. I am determined not to need it. My feet graze the concrete with each step and she is telling me which exercises she has previously taught me will help solve that problem. I am still somewhat bent, at both the hips and the knees, but I am feeling quite tall as I take one step after another, down our walkway, to the end of our driveway, down the sidewalk. We are nearing the boundary of our yard and the muscles of my legs are beginning to burn. "Are you ready to go back?" she is asking and I nod as we slowly turn ourselves in a large arc, wheelchair whipping behind me once again. "It's like reprograming my nervous system," I manage to say with an awkwardness that betrays my concentration. I cannot walk and speak at the same time. "Training my muscles to do these things again." "You're probably right about that," she is saying. We have found no precedent for us to study in this task. |