I stroked my cheeks. This 5 o'clock shadow felt like one of the few good inheritances from my father's side of the family. But if I stepped back, the rest of my image undid me. I didn't feel strong leaning on these two crutches and dragging myself around at a snail's pace. And though I knew I'd improve somewhat, my doctor had been brutally honest.
Contact sports are out.
You'll never run a race again nor will you ever walk unaided. Such was my polio legacy. The phone was ringing. Maybe I could tell Zummie and Hank that I wasn't feeling well. Besides, it was a long schlep down the stairs and perhaps even harder to get into the Community Center.