You take for granted that you can walk. You do it every day, and then suddenly you can't walk, and you have to remember, 'How did I get out of this chair and start walking in the first place?'
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
What you've done is done. You've got a goal you never reach, and it's always farther away. It keeps you walking. I don't want to sit down.
People who couldn't walk, they'd come in wheelchairs, and he'd make them walk. It's just the power of God. It wasn't my dad; it's what God had instructed my dad to do.
I had to learn to walk again, talk again, think again.
Let me make this clear: my impairment is such that without a wheelchair, I can't do very much for myself. I can't get out of bed. I can't get myself to the toilet. I certainly can't get myself to work.
I don't really think, I just walk.
I reached a point towards the end on the old heart where I had trouble getting out of a chair. All I wanted to do was get out of bed in the morning and walk to my office and sit back down in the chair. Now I throw 50 pound bags of horse feed in the back of my pickup truck and I don't even think about it. I'm back doing those things.
I just walk funny.
My doctor told me I would never walk again. My mother told me I would. I believed my mother.
I can't stop moving. I'm like this weird insect. I can't sit still in real life.
I learned to walk as a baby, and I haven't had a lesson since.