Tuesday, October 15, 2019


That's the blend of ground beef I buy. 

That's also the balance between recovery and disability I face.  On the surface, that's a very, very good thing. 

I remember when I couldn't bend over to empty the bottom rack of the dishwasher.  Picking up a plate down there- let alone a stack of three or four of them - was impossible.  Once the plates were out of the machine, turning and walking the two or three steps to the cabinet was excruciating. 

It was much easier to concentrate on the top rack and let TBG bother with the bottom.  It's our division of labor even now, almost none years later.  When I'm alone, I can.  When he's there, why should I?

That's the dilemma of 85/15.  A physiatrist, looking at my Activities of Daily Living, would be delighted.  I can hear it now:  At my age.... with my injuries.... 85% is wonderful.

That last 15% though, that's all the fun stuff.

I gardened,   Getting up and down off the ground,  shlepping soil and plants and Little Cuter's gifted kneeling bench, filling the watering can and carrying it back and forth to the newly planted beds - none of that was fun for me.  It used to be. 

Yes, I was able to do all those things.  Yes, I did them with strength and balance and didn't have to stop to rest.  Yes, I couldn't do those things until recently.  Yes, I'm glad that I am able to do them.

But they exhaust me.  They make my hip hurt.  Going from sitting to kneeling and back again is, I find, an inherent part of my gardening experience.  Just thinking about the logistics, let alone the discomfort, keeps me in one position longer than is comfortable or compatible with the task at hand. 

Standing up and seeing the work from a distance creates a similar situation.  So does needing a drink from the garage refrigerator and kissing my husband when he comes out to admire my work, both of which I did and both of which led to loud announcements of those feats.

The announcements were along profane lines not suitable for a (mostly) family-friendly blog.  I was pissed and I didn't mind letting the world in on the secret.

And that is all it took.  I let it out and then I laughed at myself because 85% is better than 0% and I have miles to go before I sleep so who knows...... maybe next year I'll write about how 90% aggravates me.

Thanks for letting me rant.  I feel much better now.


  1. I feel a lot of this but it wasn't about being shot. It's a product of having foot problems (the usual sort) and not doing enough for too long. I have lost so much of what I had. I remember what I could do in my 50s or even early 60s and it is depressing. I know some at my age (76) still are very active, but I am not. Mentally yes but physically not so much. Use it or lose it they say and guess that makes it my fault. I think it's admirable how you have fought your way back from that kind of catastrophic injury. I don't know if at my age I will ever be able to do what I did but I could do better.

    1. I keep Gabby in the front of my brain when I feel like it’s not worth it. SHE really does inspire me every day..... if she can keep working, so can I.

      You have to really really want it, though, bc the gains are small and the sensations are ouchy.

      Or, you could be like Miss Havisham and sit in your chair and be old!

    2. I do not want to sit on my chair and be old. Nor was I shot and had to fight my way back to being upright. And yet....my joints are creaking, my muscles aching. My body and spirit get tired. I slept 10 hours last night even though my day had not been lived at a hectic pace. I'm glad to be in a place where I can pace my day and do what I want and not be obligated to be and do for others.

    3. My friend, Marilyn Heins, writes a parenting/aging column for the local paper. She calls what you are feeling "Frailing" and says we are living in Geriatrica. She has limited herself (she's older than we) to one activity a day... and sometimes that is making dinner.

  2. Sometimes when my left hip is killing me, and my left foot feels like someone put a nail in it and I start whinging I think of you and your progress. And I tell myself to maybe put a sock in it.

    1. <3 <3 <3
      I have hoped that my trip through Rehab-Land has helped somebody somewhere.... to know that it's YOU!.....<3 <3 <3


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