Running Away to Colombia, Part 5 “Look at me. I can walk again.” That was where I left the story. It was true. The day after the ablation procedure, a physical therapist came into my hospital room, helped me stand, and assisted as I walked down the hallway with my Caribbean blue walker. Just ten…
We thought we had done everything right.
We had visited Colombia for years before moving. We had walked its cities, made friends, learned neighborhoods, built routines, and convinced ourselves that we understood what life here would be like. For a while, we were right.
Then I stopped being able to walk.
What began as an occasional ache became a shrinking world measured not in kilometers, but in blocks… then doorways… then the distance from my bed to the bathroom. Pain quietly took the driver’s seat, and everything we thought we knew about our future had to be reconsidered.
This isn’t a story about medicine as much as it is about love, dependence, friendship, and the moment when even the best-laid plans collide with reality.
The beloved balcony is one of our favorite places to drink coffee, cogitate, visit, check-in, spy on the gay bathhouse across the street, or just watch the world pass by. Part Three of Running Away to Colombia We arrived in Bucaramanga on June 23, 2025, with four suitcases, a one-month reservation in an Airbnb, and…
Part Two of Running Away to Colombia People came into our home and carried our life away. Five dollars.Twenty dollars.Make an offer.Take the whole box. That is what an estate sale does. It converts biography into price tags. We scheduled ours for the first weekend of May 2025. Looking back, that weekend became the point…
Part One of Running Away to Colombia I can get out of bed again. That is not the same thing as being well. Every morning begins with a negotiation. Not with Michael. Not with Colombia. Not with doctors, banks, landlords or government offices. With my body. I lie still for a few moments and take…
