Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

Im not sure what this is... the other day I went to a movie and saw a man in a wheel chair with what was probably his kid, or his nephew... and he seemed to be a vet. And I didnt have anything to do, so I tried to imagine some of the shit he goes through... and wrote this. I dunno what I think about it... I like to try to put myself in other people's shoes... but i know im not doing them justice so i feel like its really sort of shameful too... still i dunno, i like to write about it.


Its not always the big things:
Impatience and frustration builds as my 8 year old son helps the waitress clean up the mess I spilled when the pain suddenly shot through the numbness –and I sit here helpless, while those seated at near by tables give sympathetic but not understanding looks in our direction.
And when I meet their eyes like a man, they turn away.

Its not always the obvious things:
Its not the lack of ramp that’s the trouble, it’s the sticky uneven floor. Its being confined to one floor of my own house when the master bedroom is upstairs. Its trying to dance at a wedding with my wife who sits there patiently eying the other husbands
-leaves me shaken, wondering why she stayed.

Its not the visible things:
Its hour after hour of rehabilitation never sure if it will amount to anything, trying to keep up hope that one day… waiting for insurance and VA checks to come through while I’m nervous about the house payment, oh hell –the kids fall school clothes. Spending an hour in the shower, only to slip on a steel rail, unable to help myself up again. Sometimes my prescriptions don’t show up on time, sometimes they don’t work anyway.

Its not always the easy sacrifice:
When you can’t stand during the ovation at your kid’s play, or show him how to slide in to home. –model, how patriots stand for the flag, or why he should believe in service to this nation. He sees the sacrifice he already gave, questions why, and fills with rage when he sees his daddy ain’t got legs.