He’s a large man, my friend Rob. 6 feet 5 inches tall, 235 pounds. At the age of 82, he was an enthusiastic, low handicap senior golfer who played with a group of friends six days a week during the spring, summer, and fall seasons and a couple of times a week during the winter. He was also an enthusiastic boater, a self-taught sailor who enjoyed sailing on Long Island sounds.

And then, five years ago this month, he was sitting on a stool in his kitchen gathering some things for his lunch when, without any notice, he collapsed to the floor. He had experienced a bleed in his back that left him unable to control anything in his body below his middle. No sense of feeling in his legs or his feet or his toes – they were completely unresponsive.

He was able to call for help. He was transferred to a local hospital and, from there, to a regional trauma center where, after a few days, the physicians told him that they didn’t know why the bleed had happened, that the damage was irreversible, and that he would never walk again.

Happily, the physical and occupational health specialists who were assigned to work with him had a more positive view.

He’s now 87 years old. Every day since he was discharged from the trauma center, he has worked with a skilled, patient, and relentlessly optimistic trainer, physical therapist, or occupational health specialist. People who interpret “can’t” as “not yet.” Weights and hand grips to build strength in his shoulders, arms, and core. Techniques for daily living. Game and exercises to stimulate his nervous system.

Never mind the scars from falls along the way, he has built the strength and the techniques needed to navigate into and out of bed and into and out of the shower. He’s able to tend to his daily rituals. He can get himself up from his wheelchair into a car and from the car back to the wheelchair. And, every day, he walks.

While he is still primarily wheel-chair mobile, he can use a modified two-wheeled walking frame to pull himself up from his wheelchair, steady himself, and laboriously shuffle-walk for up to 20 minutes at a time. Since he can’t feel his legs or his feet, he is accompanied by an assistant who walks beside him with one hand resting gently in the middle of his back on a thick cloth safety belt that goes around Rob’s middle. If he drags a foot or starts to lose his balance, his assistant counterweights with the strap so he doesn’t fall.

Last night, as he was describing his Sunday afternoon walk, he said, “It was a good walk and, as soon as I started to stumble, I felt her hand on my belt. It’s a lot easier for her to do that than to pick me up off the floor.”

With a tip of the hat to his trainers and therapists, “yes” to that. He’s a large man, my friend Rob.

Nick Miller and Clarity train banks and bankers to attract and develop deeper relationships with small businesses. Many more Sales Thoughts like this and a host of other articles and resources at https://clarityadvantage.com/knowledge-center/ .