I once read that there's a certain age where each of us remain in our minds. Mine is my early thirties--I had young babies and a happy marriage, or so I thought. Lately I've been coming to grips with the fact that no, I'm not thirty-three--I am about to turn seventy-seven. And at my back I do hear time's winged chariot. Not drawing too near I hope.
I think this awareness of my own mortality began with my fall in the driveway, a doctor's stern warning that I needed physical therapy lest I fall and severely injure myself. He was right and meant well, but his words planted fear in me (not hard to do) and I became even more uncertain about my walking.
His advice to get physical therapy, however, was right on the money. Ignoring his recommendation, I found a facility that specializes in teaching the elderly to avoid falls. I've lost track of how many sessions I have had, but I can certainly tell a difference--and so can the therapist who pointed out that he can tell I'm stronger because I do the exercises more slowly. When you have strength, he said, and are in control, you can do them more slowly. For weeks, he's been saying to me, "Slow down." And today I did.
Today was a good day. I woke up rested, feeling confident, and my success at the therapy session only confirmed my good feeling. Lunch with an old and valued friend, and I mentioned that I was walking better. As we left the restaurant he was behind me and said, "You are sailing right along." It was a day of errands, PT, lunch, nap, pick up Jacob, do odds and ends--and not one lick of work on the manuscript I'm checking edits on. Dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill with neighbors was a happy occasion tonight, and even Jacob was mostly engaged and amused.
I wish all days could be like that, and maybe that's what I'm moving toward. But I do have down days when I feel shaky, uncertain, unhappy. I'm always looking for things to blame them on--falling barometric pressure, a chore or an errand I don't want to do, an extra glass of wine the night before. Maybe it's just the way the pendulum--or at least my pendulum--swings.
As I said in an earlier blog, my oldest son's statement that I may have ten good years left startled me. It could have given me a lot of down days, but I have decided to concentrate on up days--if only for ten years, so be it. Besides, I have so much work on my desk, it may take me ten years to get it all done.
So here's me--Pollyanna once again. Looking forward to the next ten years and not thinking beyond. (Oh don't worry, plans for my future are well in hand with my kids--we're not ignoring the future; I'm just not going to dwell on it.)
I think this awareness of my own mortality began with my fall in the driveway, a doctor's stern warning that I needed physical therapy lest I fall and severely injure myself. He was right and meant well, but his words planted fear in me (not hard to do) and I became even more uncertain about my walking.
His advice to get physical therapy, however, was right on the money. Ignoring his recommendation, I found a facility that specializes in teaching the elderly to avoid falls. I've lost track of how many sessions I have had, but I can certainly tell a difference--and so can the therapist who pointed out that he can tell I'm stronger because I do the exercises more slowly. When you have strength, he said, and are in control, you can do them more slowly. For weeks, he's been saying to me, "Slow down." And today I did.
Today was a good day. I woke up rested, feeling confident, and my success at the therapy session only confirmed my good feeling. Lunch with an old and valued friend, and I mentioned that I was walking better. As we left the restaurant he was behind me and said, "You are sailing right along." It was a day of errands, PT, lunch, nap, pick up Jacob, do odds and ends--and not one lick of work on the manuscript I'm checking edits on. Dinner at the Old Neighborhood Grill with neighbors was a happy occasion tonight, and even Jacob was mostly engaged and amused.
I wish all days could be like that, and maybe that's what I'm moving toward. But I do have down days when I feel shaky, uncertain, unhappy. I'm always looking for things to blame them on--falling barometric pressure, a chore or an errand I don't want to do, an extra glass of wine the night before. Maybe it's just the way the pendulum--or at least my pendulum--swings.
As I said in an earlier blog, my oldest son's statement that I may have ten good years left startled me. It could have given me a lot of down days, but I have decided to concentrate on up days--if only for ten years, so be it. Besides, I have so much work on my desk, it may take me ten years to get it all done.
So here's me--Pollyanna once again. Looking forward to the next ten years and not thinking beyond. (Oh don't worry, plans for my future are well in hand with my kids--we're not ignoring the future; I'm just not going to dwell on it.)
No comments:
Post a Comment