Waltzing with my Walker

 

My Queen Bee chair

For several years occasional friends have suggested that because of my lack of balance I needed a walker. Once, maybe ten years ago, two good friends went into hysterics at the idea and declared that was what they would get me for Christmas. It didn’t come to pass, but now I am officially old: my new, fancy walker arrived today. Jacob was so excited he could hardly stand himself—unpacked it, and assembled what needed doing, and only had to call Jay for help on one small piece. It’s very fancy with a seat, a basket for carrying things—note to self: the basket does not carry a glass of wine. Tried it tonight and dumped wine all over the kitchen floor. But it has locking brakes—you lock it if you’re going to use it to stand up or if you’re going to sit in it. So tonight as Jordan cooked dinner and then Christian finished cooking, I sat like the Queen Bee and told them, step by step, how to make German potato salad my way. Jordan calls the dining room chair I always sit in my princess chair; now she says my walker must have a name, so I’m going to call it my Queen Bee chair.

After all my reluctance, I have to admit a walker makes it easier to walk. Still my ankle hurts, even though it’s the distal portion of a leg bone and not the ankle that is broken. Tomorrow I go to the doctor and then, presumably, to get a boot. Perhaps to have my hand ex-rayed and a bone density test. I’ll talk to the doctor about pain medication—so far I’ve just been taking aspirin and find wine more effective but one can only treat oneself with so much of that.

News that I found interesting today: read the best statement on all this bathroom fuss from the superintendent of Granbury schools. He said it looked to him like a solution looking for a problem and suggested that Texas legislators spend their energy and time on the big problems—like why Texas ranks so low educationally in the nation and massive funding cuts to education. Local administrators, he suggested wryly, can deal with such problems as who pees where. I like that man.

Not so much the legislator—which I could remember where he’s from and whether he’s state or national—who wants to regulate the age and weight of strippers.  Talk about dealing with major issues of state.

Jordan’s cooking got interrupted by friends tonight so Christian finished the dinner, and he, Jacob and I ate without her—German potato salad, kielbasa, and the blue cheese green salad she’d made. Most interesting discussion because Jacob wanted to know what it meant to be transgender. We discussed all aspects of that and bathroom use for a long time, and I’m so glad we could talk openly rather than having him pick up misinformation on the school grounds. Our conclusion: God wires some people differently but loves them all.