Yesterday marked 16 weeks since I fell and broke my femur. For the past 6 weeks I've had to walk with a cane, but yesterday was my own self-determined cut off date--I decided to leave the cane at home.
My friend Brian and I went to Tribe again, our favorite gay bar, for Show Tunes Sunday. At Show Tunes Sunday, all of the video screens run musical numbers, and most everyone in the bar sings and dances along to their favorites. The bar was a little slow last night, and I was a little tired. I just went to keep Brian company.
That is until Maurice showed up. (Maurice is a tall, sleek, handsome African-American, who we noticed last week when he high kicked and twirled along with the musical "A Chorus Line"). Maurice spotted me from across the room and recognized me! We'd not been introduced before, but he remembered I was an admirer. So he came over and said, "let's dance!" and pulled me quickly up out of my seat before I could say anything. I jerked away and said, "wait, I'm recovering from a broken leg, I don't think I can dance!!" Maurice just smiled and said, "I'll be very careful." He held my hands and we danced around and around, and my eyes welled up with tears as I thought about how grateful I was to be dancing again! (I was a little wobbly, and limping some, and it hurt, but damn it, I was doing it!) We finished off our number with some step-kicks just as a gang of regulars called Brian and me over to join in the sing-and-dance-along to "Springtime for Hitler" from the musical, "The Producers."
When I got out of bed this morning, my right leg was stiff and sore and I could barely walk. But I don't care. "I could have danced all night, I could have danced all night, and still have begged for more!" (From the musical, "My Fair Lady").