So, after I wrote that post about aging as spiritual practice, I jumped on my bike and rode to school. Beautiful day. Rode home a slightly different way, through pretty parts of Capitol Hill and over the U Bridge. Then up Fremont Av, almost home, where I misjudged the light, stopped dead on the steepest uphill, and fell over sideways. Broke my wrist.
And boy am I mindful now! This was Tuesday. Finally managed this morning to get a mango sufficiently peeled to eat it. But today is much better than yesterday. They started me out with a cast so fat and up over my elbow that only one shirt would go on over it. I couldn't bend my arm enough to take my earrings out. I wasn't sure I'd be able to fasten my bra.
Then my doc called yesterday and said they would put a daintier cast on me, freeing my elbow, slimming the whole contraption. Whew! Earrings no problem. The cast comes into my hand and over my thumb, and any squeeezing or lifting pressure hurts, so mangos continue to be a challenge, but my mantra from the get-go was "slow down." I just know every old automatic thing is now going to take longer and possibly require new thinking.
I put a plastic newspaper bag over the cast this morning to take a shower. But how to squeeze the shampoo into my hand and put it on my head? No way. So I just squeezed the bottle onto my head. Blow-dry hair? Well, you can blow it, and you can style it, but not both at the same time. I'm not sure anybody but me notices my "styling" anyway.
It's a fracture with no displacement. At first, we thought I'd certainly have to cancel my June bike tour, but now, there's hope. I'll know next Friday whether to get a spin class plan underway to train.
So I can't bike, but my walking is way better than last summer, and I think I can dance, clunky cast on the shoulder of my partner. I'll find out tomorrow.
I'm reading Eric Liu and Scott Noppe-Brandon's book, Imagination First. "Practice 9: Renew Your Narrative. Ask whether your story still serves you." So I'm thinking, What's my story? It's not Tough Guy and it's not I Don't Need Anybody. I asked for help when I fell. My neighbor took me to the doc. Another opened my wine bottle and twisted off the ibuprofen cap. Jonathan peeled my orange yesterday at lunch.
I like to think my story is, I rise to the occasion.
We shall see.
One Old Woman's Solitude
3 hours ago