(A reworked post which first appeared in WOMEN: WE SHALL OVERCOME in January, 2012.)
Now
that I’m 81, I'm not only clumsy, I’m becoming decrepit.
Which is strange, because I don’t remember ever being crepit. Or ept.
Or even ane. You look to be
sympathetic. Let me tell you some of my
woes.
I’m
diabetic, which has not been much of a problem.
One time, however, I had a sore on my leg which refused to heal. My doctor thought pure oxygen would
help. He had me go for treatments in a
hyperbaric oxygen chamber. This is what
divers use when they get the bends. This
is not for those of you with claustrophobia, which I do not have. You lie in a coffin-like chamber that has a
glass top & sides so you can watch TV.
While you’re in there you breathe pure oxygen. It’s something “normal” people never need. The treatments take about an hour each, in a
series of about 15. I usually fell
asleep.
My
main problem has been with my feet--specifically, my toes. I refuse to wear shoes unless it’s absolutely
necessary. I never wear them in the
house. When my kids were small &
they’d see me wearing shoes, they’d ask where I was going. I used to give small dinner fancy parties
with crystal, china, sterling & bare feet.
I have broken several toes by bumping them into chairs.
The
first time I ever broke a toe, my husband & I were playing cards at my
brother & sister-in-law’s house on a Sunday evening. My brother-in-law was a veterinarian. We decided that he would bandage my foot
& I would see my doctor Monday, instead of bothering him on the
weekend. Apparently, my brother in law
used a LOT of bandage to wrap it, because when I went to my doctor the next day
he asked, “Who the hell bandaged your foot?
It looks like a hoof!” I said,
“Funny you should mention that. My
veterinarian did it.”
Another
time, I had just had arthroscopic surgery on my knee. The morning after the surgery, I was in bed
when the doorbell rang. My husband had
gone to work. I grabbed my crutches,
which I was not used to using, & started to “run” to the door. I fell & broke my toe against the wall,
trying to protect my knee. My yelling
woke my son, who came out to see what was happening. He helped me up & got me back into bed,
then went to the front door. The UPS
driver had left a package for me. In it
was a beautiful new cane, hand decorated in lace, which a friend had sent
me. If she hadn’t sent it, I wouldn’t
have needed it! Sometimes I feel like
the old joke that goes, “Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you enjoy the
play?”
I
had a mastectomy a couple of years ago.
That didn’t bother me too much except that after I finally got my arm
back in working order, I fell & broke it.
It still doesn’t work perfectly. For
quite a while I couldn’t pull up my own underwear. My son, my husband & I were talking about online dating.
I said I should put my name out there with the description, "Old
broad who can't pull up her own underwear." Blake thought that should get me several
hits!!
I
once bought an embroidered pillow for a friend.
Maybe I should have gotten one for myself, too. It shows a cow lying on
her back with her udder hanging to one side.
It says, with the letters dragging down, towards the bottom corner, “No,
really--I’m f i n e….”
Sort
of like this:
A meal is not considered finished until I spill something on my shirt----fishducky
