Day 1 at the gym was a disaster.

I begged my wife to drop me off at the gym for an hour while she ran errands. She was hesitant but agreed. I missed the independence of moving my body and working my muscles. And I was willing to take it slowly. I figured the most important thing was to explore how my new brain and body worked.

But I overestimated my ability to sort out the sensory input.

I couldn’t figure where to sit in the lat pull down machine, starting to sit three different times before I figured out how to position my legs. I moved to dumbbells, but my right arm was hard to control — it’s the first to go when I have a seizure and the last thing to return.

The worst thing — and the funniest! — was trying to slam a ball to the ground. I figured this the simplest thing: well within my powers! But I failed to notice a giant exercise ball beside me. To this day, I often miss things that are below me to the left, but that day I slammed that ball down on the floor. Except that it hit the exercise ball instead and bounced up and out toward the only other person in the room. I stood there in shock, mumbled apologies, and put all the equipment back.

I still had a great time at the gym, but it was clear that it would take patience, my least favorite skill. On the other hand, I still chuckle at the gym goer who thought I was touched and my utterly dumbfounded expression as the ball bounded away.