Tuesday win and lose
Tell us about a triumph, and about a failure
Emil's week this time.
I've had a lot of these. But I suppose one of my favorite triumphs is learning to walk again after nearly losing the use of my legs right after taking the bar exams. I had it coming; I shouldn't have been conducting an on-the-sly, badly planned investigation during review week. I shouldn't have let my guard down. So much shrapnel had gone into me during that bomb blast such that the doctors were saying I was likely to spend a very long time in a wheelchair---if I kept my feet at all. I proved them wrong. My legs didn't get amputated. I was able to attend my barrister's oathtaking five months later, with only a cane for safety's sake. I was able to dance again by summer. I was able to drive to my job. I got down on one knee in July of that year to propose to Marce. I was able to carry her over the threshold on our wedding day.
As for failures...do I have to go into this? The one that really, really sticks out in my mind (and I know I've mentioned this before) was the time I wasn't able to save Marce from getting kidnapped. To this day, I do wonder what I could have done to stop it from happening: maybe if I'd met up with her a minute earlier, or suggested we eat elsewhere, or waited to take her out to dinner instead of our usual lunch date, that incident would never have happened. But it did. I got a night in the hospital for some wounds, she got two weeks at the hands of some of the sickest scumbags I've ever met. She's mostly recovered now from it, but sometimes she still gets jumpy even when I touch her, and to this day she refuses to sit in the backseat of any car. That incident changed her, in ways I can't even imagine.
Emil's week this time.
I've had a lot of these. But I suppose one of my favorite triumphs is learning to walk again after nearly losing the use of my legs right after taking the bar exams. I had it coming; I shouldn't have been conducting an on-the-sly, badly planned investigation during review week. I shouldn't have let my guard down. So much shrapnel had gone into me during that bomb blast such that the doctors were saying I was likely to spend a very long time in a wheelchair---if I kept my feet at all. I proved them wrong. My legs didn't get amputated. I was able to attend my barrister's oathtaking five months later, with only a cane for safety's sake. I was able to dance again by summer. I was able to drive to my job. I got down on one knee in July of that year to propose to Marce. I was able to carry her over the threshold on our wedding day.
As for failures...do I have to go into this? The one that really, really sticks out in my mind (and I know I've mentioned this before) was the time I wasn't able to save Marce from getting kidnapped. To this day, I do wonder what I could have done to stop it from happening: maybe if I'd met up with her a minute earlier, or suggested we eat elsewhere, or waited to take her out to dinner instead of our usual lunch date, that incident would never have happened. But it did. I got a night in the hospital for some wounds, she got two weeks at the hands of some of the sickest scumbags I've ever met. She's mostly recovered now from it, but sometimes she still gets jumpy even when I touch her, and to this day she refuses to sit in the backseat of any car. That incident changed her, in ways I can't even imagine.