The view from my bed was beginning to get to me, the walls closing around me like a nagging relative who'd out weighed his welcome. I was now beginning to not only move my toes, but twist my ankles back and forth. The feeling was coming back into my legs and I accepted this reconnection between my brain and my legs with pleasure, but I still was unable to walk completely.

Eric kept telling me that it would take weeks before I would be able to walk without the aid of a walker or a cane. Here I was, a man in his thirties, hobbling across the bedroom carpet like some senior citizen moving through a crosswalk. I felt old, I felt sick--- but fortunately I knew this was all temporary and I would one day feel like the same Drew I used to know.

But in the meantime, I still felt like some old grouch. Through all of my hospital visits, I had seen enough sickness and illness to last me a lifetime. People confined to beds, bedpans, machines, tubes, and horrible hospital food. I never quite understood that if you're supposed to get better, don't you need to eat well?

Since arriving at home, I'd made Eric fill the cupboards with gourmet food, with thoughts that I'd be able to prepare some of my favorite entrees: peppercorn filet mignon, citrus chicken with shitake mushrooms, and various vegetable soufflÈs.

But with Eric never being home because of the closure of his lawsuit and legal proceedings, I'd been limited to fresh frozen gourmet pizzas and entrees stacked in the freezer. It's a little difficult to cook a gourmet meal with a walker.

I heard the front door close and Eric's footsteps moving through the house. I remained in bed, quickly turning on the television to the Christian channel, staring blankly forward at a music video featuring a youthful looking rock and roll band singing about the glory of redemption.

Eric entered the room, removing his tie and crossing to me in bed, giving me a quick kiss and then staring at the television. "How can you watch that stuff?" He asked.

"It's actually the funniest channel on cable. Every music video has the same things in it: an ocean, a sunrise, lots of white people, a seagull, and a wonderful cascade of attractive men."

"Christian men who hate us."

Eric continued to get undressed, putting on his sweats.

"The settlement is going that well, eh?" I mumbled, but Eric remained silent. "Where are you going?"

"Jogging."

The anger rose inside me as a new Christian rock band dressed in neon day-glo sang in an abandoned warehouse.

"What is it?"

"Nothing," I responded, my eyes transfixed on the television of various band members flying like seagulls through a church service. Was the theme to drop acid before going to pray?

"Don't say 'nothing' Drew when it's obviously something."

"I want to go jogging."

"You will."

Eric put on his sneakers, kissed me again, and then left the room. He knew I was being a baby.

I curled up in bed and grabbed the remote, turning to the Iranian channel where a soap opera was in progress. I had no idea what they were saying but it really didn't matter because all I could hear, in great envy, were Eric's footsteps bouncing down the driveway.