He's staying on my heart, this man who stumbled into my glucose garden 2 days ago at physical therapy. I was waiting for my 3:30 pm appointment when he came in on 2 walking crutches. He was tall, maybe 6'4". Very heavy. Maybe 300 lbs. My age, probably, late 60s. In the waiting room I heard that his wish was for occupational therapy; the receptionist looked up his records, a therapist came out, and they explained he would have to stop hand therapy in order to start the OT. He sat down next to me with a little table between us, and filled out his paperwork. There had been an address change for him, and the receptionist inquired about it, whether there was some confirmation. "Sure," he answered wearily.

Finishing the forms, he started to try and get up. I did not try to help. He fell back into the chair, which strained to take his large size again. Receptionist, therapist, I were attentive. "Let me rest," he said. "It's the pain." He tried again. I rose too. With my right hand at his back, I could give support, not strength. The therapist came over. "Don't," she said to me. Then: "Are you with him?" No, I said. He turned to look me in the eye with a question. Then he turned back. The therapist took him back, I assumed to one of the private rooms, not the shared gym area. The receptionist said she was calling his medical emergency contact.

He is staying on my heart, and I am praying to the Lord for him -- that healing and recovery can come for him. Such a hard road to try and walk...each step involving pain, each attempt at rising to go forth a question. An imprisonment of pain and size that reinforces itself -- difficulty moving means that movement will be less, metabolism will slow down.

Not to be able to move...terrible.

Being able to move...such a blessing.

May you be able to move, soon, without pain and with joy, young brother.