As I've mentioned, 10 weeks ago I fell in the garden .... It had rained and rained ... and Noah left the Ark a bit too soon ... pavers were mossy-slick. Four days later, I was introduced to my herniated disc .... Pain that I couldn't recall experiencing in the First Three Quarters, including from a fractured knee cap and some post-operative pains from a minor surgery.
I had led a charmed life. Healthy as ... well .... your average horse. True, I was prone already to weekly arrhythmias .... but they weren't painful .... sometimes nervous making, especially when, on the occasion while doing my daily run, my heart rate would suddenly surge over 220 bpm and then would spend an hour or a day or -- once -- three days bouncing around from my usual Resting Heart Rate of 40 or so up to 150 or more and then drop, again ... M and I refer to it as my bouncing heart ... preferred, apparently, to a cheating heart.
Any case, back to the herniated disc. For the first two weeks, I couldn't think of running .... walking was excruciating ... hell! for the first week, sleeping was possible only lying over a hassock with prescribed narcotics ... head and feet down ... mid-section draped on hassock. Things improved and by week 5, I was walking with one cane and thrilled to be doing so. Indeed, I had managed to cancel only several days of appointments! Who could ask for more? Weeks 6, 7, and 8 were more or less pain-free, cane gone by week 8 and week 9 was spent moving 4 cubic yards of gravel to my driveway -- one wheel-barrel at a time. Cannot fully describe how pleasurable it was to be able to move that gravel. There is a prayer: Blessed are You, God, straightens out those who are bent over. (As I recall, this is not only part of the Jewish liturgy but was reportedly -- so sayeth Diogenes -- recited each morning by Socrates, the Stranger from the East ... )
As an aside, some parts of the experience were heart-warming and another was -- dare I say -- welcome.
- My eldest Grand-daughter lent me a walking stick that I had carved for her commemorating her performance in a Chess Match. The Handle was the Great White Queen and the tip that kept knocking on the ground was an evil Rook ... silly messages were carved on the staff. And she lent it to me. There is a rule: Grandpas are not as important as Grandmas ... but I got to use the sacred walking stick.
- Marsha was especially kind to me ... 'can I get you this and that?'
- The intoxicating pain-killers did bring back memories of youthful intoxications .... I told the young Doc the first night in Hospital that the Dilaudid wasn't touching the pain but really felt quite pleasant and I was thankful to him for that.
- Most welcome of all, however, was my new-found ability to know a bit of what it was like to have an acute and Holy-Cannoli-Batman-it-could-be-chronic condition. Many of the visitors who come to see me in my work have chronic conditions .... emotional and/or physical. I would, not infrequently, feel a loneliness in not being able to fully walk a mile in their Birkenstocks. Now, I could ... even if only a little.
Any case, three days ago, I ran for the first time in 9 weeks and 6 days (who's counting) and, today, I'm Charlie-Horsed, as might be expected. My ankles scream when I walk .... my shins and inner thighs chime in with their own kvetching and announcements: there's still life in the Fourth Quarter.
How lucky can one Old Guy be .... but visitors will be here, soon.
I need to describe another time the manner in which life's surprises capsize living for those whose Sadness and Glee don't dance, together.
Tomorrow ... M and I are heading up to see her unwell and crotchety Mom and her family, one of my nieces (the one who liked to sing Broadway tunes with her Uncle 20+ years ago) and her family, and our only two distant Grandkids (and their parents). Maybe, I'll get to borrow a bike and go for my first ride in 10 weeks with my fourth (of five) grand-daughter and only grandson.
How lucky can one Old Guy be?
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