Minneapolis City Pages May 4, 2016 : Page 12

Sellie always set them straight. There was pain, a constant, drilling agony from misfiring overactive nerves. He self-medicated with blunts, rolled by friends as they cruised the backroads of Stillwater at 1 a.m. Little else helped to fill the long hours he spent at home stretching and trying to eat back the 30 pounds he lost in the hospital. In the quiet of his room, his new mechani-cal heart made a mighty ticking sound, steady as the hands of a clock. One month after Sellie’s return to the land of the living, Goltry started blowing up his phone. What they never talked about at the park, Goltry said, was the vast world of adaptive action sports, a ripe reservoir of opportunity for extreme snowboarding, skateboarding, and watercraft for amputees just like them. There were other people in town who’d already traversed that tun-nel of pain lying before Sellie, people who could teach him everything he needed to know to get back on a board. “Half the battle is keeping your head in the game,” Goltry says. “There’s a mil-lion people out here who want to see you succeed. So much love, man. There’s this weird little group in Minneapolis. We’re all very active and hang out together and do awesome shit.” Dreams of skateboarding again had skateboarding releases. Call it adrenaline. Call it transcendence. Call it euphoria, the high that comes with landing a trick you broke a bone learning, the dismantling of that noxious fear you held deep in your chest as you charged for the edge. “He’s a skater,” Sellie tried to explain. “I trust him.” The Amputee Adventure Club In early November Goltry invited Sellie to meet some friends — fellow amputee athletes and coaches — at the Dog House Bar in Maplewood. Before rallying with the others, the two chilled on Goltry’s couch, watching reruns of South Park . In the legendary season one finale, “Cartman’s Mom is a Dirty Slut,” the foul-mouthed yet periodically sensitive Cartman tries to locate his dad, but must first sort through his mother’s robust sexual history. There’s a scene in a bar where Cartman’s third grade teacher denies fathering him and shouts across the room, “Who here hasn’t had sex with Mrs. Cartman?” The mayor, the principal, the priest, and Jesus all have. “I haven’t,” answers Halfy, an amputee who looks something like a shaggier Shaggy from Scooby Doo . “You don’t count, Halfy,” the teacher snaps. “You don’t have any legs.” Sellie and Goltry burst out laughing as Sellie, who’d grown up at Walton skate park, returned on wheels a year after losing his leg. COLIN MICHAEL SIMMONS clouded the slow and droning moments of Sellie’s new sabbatical. Abstinence was cruel. His friends were skeptical of this new association with Goltry, his mom anxious. The man was a relative stranger. What did Sellie even know about him? The bond was difficult to explain. It wasn’t that they were amputees. It was that they both chased that mysterious sense that 12   CITYPAGES.COM   MAY 4–10, 2016

DaVita Clinical Research c/o Patient Rec

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