Near and minor injury

Getting older means, among other things, being more careful about little stuff. Stuff such as picking up your feet when you walk.

Hiking around the neighborhood the other day I nearly went end over end when I hit my left foot against a slightly high section of sidewalk. I managed to keep my balance, not falling even though I took a couple drunk looking steps regaining my balance. Laughing as I got back to walking properly, I reminded myself that, particularly as Woodbridge and the Wayne State University area have their share of uneven walks, I really should pick up my feet as I go along. Or at least pay better attention to where I'm headed.

But wait, there's more. As I took my glasses out of my pocket when I arrived at the old barn with morning exercise over, I pinched my finger between the earpiece and the lens as I went to put them on. I tell you I drew blood. Putting my glasses on. Can you imagine that?

I would should you but it's my middle finger and, you know, decorum.

Showing my age

April is about my favorite month. Baseball begins, and the second weekend brings the Masters golf tournament.  Life is good.

Interestingly, although I hardly need another reminder of how old I am, I read earlier this week that among the major sports baseball fans average being 57 years old. The only sport with a higher average fan age is golf at 63.

Here I am at 64 and those are the two sports I watch the most.

And then I gain another year later this month, turning 65 the 22nd. Oh well.

But why let all that get you down? Baseball, golf, and my birthday: all in April. I can't think of a reason not to love the most excellent fourth month of the year. 

Holding On

His voice was tired and weak. An old friend had called just to chat; among what we spoke about were his upcoming medical tests. "They're looking at my heart, Marty. I don't know what they expect to find." He sounded sad, alone, and isolated, if that makes sense.

I begin to understand the despondency which seems to come with age. This friend, a man I've know over 50 years now, was clearly feeling down not just physically but psychologically too. And I began to feel down for him. It does make you think just that much harder about the passing of time, of things gone by never, it may feel, to be again. With that comes doubt. Doubt is scary.

C. S. Lewis I believe spoke of obstinancy in belief. If I take it rightly he meant that sometimes all we can do is hold on tight to what we know is true and damn the torpedoes. There are days when that's just all we have. In this case, it means remembering that this world, though important, isn't the end. We have a journey here and what we do and say and think and experience is critical. Yet it isn't all. There is more, and greater, on the horizon.

I promised my old buddy prayers and I will say them. I will also try very hard to be obstinate. I hope he can be too.

Distractions

I had a box in my front hall yesterday which I wanted to take to the Shop. But I walked out of the house and into my new old van and drove off without it.

Heavy, disgruntled sigh. I loop the block and park in front of the house and get out of the van. 

My cell rings. I take the call, start chatting with an old friend on the other end, walk up onto the porch, unlock the door, and step inside the house. The conversation goes on another minute or two and we hang up.

Putting the phone in my pocket, I take out my keys, head out the door, lock it, and get back in the van heading towards the old barn. Without the box.

Heavier, disgruntleder sigh. 

I went back home. I did not forget the box a third time. 

Ch-Ch-Changes

During my morning walk yesterday I was chilly. It was also 64 degrees when I left my house.

Since when is 64 chilly? Not that long ago - last summer in fact - I seem to remember that that temperature was comfortable. I typically wore shorts - it's wrong to hide legs like mine anyway - and a tee shirt, just like yesterday. But yesterday I was cold enough even after 45 minutes of steady and fast paced hiking that I wished I had a jacket.

Is this another of those old folks things I must adjust to?

Grant Me Patience

I have found in the last year or so that I'm having trouble keeping my temper. Consequently, I have begun to pray for greater patience. In the two weeks since I began doing that, I find my patience tried almost every day, several times a day.

What is that, irony or something? Or is it that, if a fella truly wants to learn patience, he must have his patience tested? 

That second part makes sense. But it's really getting under my skin just the same.

My Left Foot

Everything was going well. My doctor had the order for my foot X-rays ready when I arrived at his office. There was no one in front of me at the X-ray station at the hospital next door. Yesterday was proceeding rather smoothly indeed.

Then I had to get the actual X-rays.

I did not know that my foot could get into the positions the technician put it into. Neither did the rest of me. As I sat up on the table and he twisted my left foot outward, a complete chain reaction was caused along my entire body. I had to turn myself against my left hip, stretch my leg out, and hold my torso up with my hands behind my back (otherwise he would not have gotten the right angle). It was as if I were playing solo Twister while gamma rays were being fired into my body. 

"Hold perfectly still," the technician told me sternly.

I laugh. Ha, ha! Surely you jest.

That's when I got the Mr. Spock raised eyebrow. The X-ray tech did not, in fact, jest.

Fortunately that was the worst of the five X-rays taken, although the other four had their own special levels of discomfort. I appreciated getting that first one out of the way though. 

The damn thing is that through all the twisting and turning and hold still-ing, my ankle didn't hurt at all. Not one bit. I could hardly walk on Thursday (which prompted my call to the doctor who ordered the X-rays). Foot pain has been an issue for me off and on for at least a year, foot and ankle pain so bad I could barely hobble around at times. But as it's becoming more on than off, it was high time to do something about it, right? Yet I had no pain at all while enduring the procedures. I walked out of the hospital just fine after hobbling in. 

Of course, when I stepped out of my new old van on returning home, I nearly went down in a heap. So it goes.

My doctor will have the X-rays Tuesday, so hopefully I'll have reasonably good news then. I fully expect the diagnosis to be COVID though.

Sorry. I couldn't resist that.

On The Other Foot

This may seem more melancholy than I intend it to be, but I'm really only trying to be observational. 

Watching the Ohio Cosgriffs drive off home yesterday morning, Christmas being over, I found myself reflecting on little things in life which had never quite occurred to me before. I was thinking of how me Grandpaw and Grandmaw Hutchins may have felt in years gone by as we would leave their home in North Carolina after our annual summer visit. Or even, perhaps, how me parents and grandparents up here felt when my family would make our exit after spending time at their homes.

With more extended stays it's as if you just get into the new routine and it's over. Several times yesterday after the family left I found myself expecting one of the dogs to be staring at me as I opened the door into the dining room, or to see my son or daughter-in-law or granddaughter sitting on the couch as I entered the living room. I expected those things so much that it took a second or so for me to re-orient when nobody was there. 

I believe I would rather be the one leaving than the one staying. The ones moving on are naturally occupied with that: the drive back home, returning to work, anticipating the usual day in and day out life. While I certainly had my routine coming back at me, there was still a rather marked change for me as all I had was that routine returning. There wasn't the relative distraction of a four hour drive home. There wasn't so much as a walk down the block to occupy me. I just went back into the house and locked the door as I closed it, changed into work clothes, and got back to normal. Poof. In the bat of an eye, nothing was different than it had been last Thursday. But it felt radically different, at least for the first few hours.

I suppose it does offer me a better sense of what my elders felt way back when. I don't really like it, but it is what is, eh?

The first thing to go

The perils of getting old...

I do a middling amount of work from home, so much so that it isn't unusual to lock up my Shop for a few minutes at a time so I can do something online or what not. I've even cautioned my customers to call if they get to the Shop and it's locked, because I'll come up if I can (it's only a couple blocks away). Often I'll drive my van back and forth to save a few seconds as against walking.

Yesterday as I worked from home I got a call about some cables. I told the guy I was at home, but call when he was close and I'd meet him. An hour or so later he calls; he's at my Shop. I ask him to give me five minutes and I'll be there.

I walk out the door, lock the house and start fumbling in my pocket for my van keys. At the same time I look out at the street: no van. It wasn't in front of the house or across the street from it, or even down the road a bit. My van wasn't there, anywhere.

Of course I began to get mad. I can't believe this is happening! And in the middle of the day! Someone took my van...no, Marty, you took your van. To the Mechanic. Because it had a broken coil spring.

In my defense, this was around 12:30 and I had already been up since 1 AM and driven a 400 mile road trip. But you aren't going to cut me any slack for that, are you?

Warm cold warm

This getting old business can be both interesting and, yes I mean this, even fun. But it can also be very frustrating. Downright aggravating even.

Yesterday I told the tale of being too warm on my morning walk. I had overdressed, mostly in anticipation of cold weather which was not there. I broke a sweat for the first time this year. As a result, I happily and also for the first time in 2019 donned shorts and a t-shirt. It felt great.

And one hour later I was cold. I had to get a sweatshirt.

Really, how many times in a day should a guy have to change his clothes, folks?

Aging means forgetting

The signs of getting older...

When a customer comes in for a part, you get the part and set it down, then you can't find it. So you get another because the customer is waiting and sell him that one. The instant he leaves, you see the first one you got, hiding in plain sight.

Yep, that's how my morning has gone so far.