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Looking Out My Backdoor: Eating crow and liking it, baked in humble pie

I thought it wouldn’t matter. Under Arturo’s guidance I had been doing physical therapy twice weekly, for almost six months. I was walking strong and sure. When walking along the street I used my handsome walking stick, which I had purchased many years ago from a S’Klallam gentleman in Port Gamble, for balance.

Now comes the really stupid part of my confession. I paid lip service to Arturo in August when he told me I would need to continue my exercises, especially the ones for strength, for the rest of my life. Yes, indeedy, exercise the rest of my life, yes, sir. You betcha.

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