A line-of-duty injury that retired me from the New York City Police Department left me a cripple for over twelve years. As with all such injuries, the finest hospital, surgical, and rehabilitative treatment was provided for me. Unfortunately, after three years of medical treatment, orthopedic surgeons advised me that the fractures to my feet had left me a permanent cripple.
I had progressed from casts on both feet, to a wheelchair, then crutches, and finally to two canes and orthopedic supports in both shoes. As one doctor put it, I had much to be grateful for. Initially, I had faced possible amputation of the left foot, with the bleak prognosis that I might never walk again. But I did walk again— in a laboring, halting manner, assisted by the two canes. For this I must thank the doctors who worked so long and earnestly in an attempt to bring recovery.
Then five years later, still leaning on the two canes and with supports in my shoes, I slipped and fell on the icy streets of the city. My doctor strongly advised me to leave New York for an area with a year-round moderate climate. When he warned that another fall could put me back in a wheelchair for life, my wife and I decided it was time to go. The following summer we moved to California.
