Old ladies write — and talk — about their health challenges. Ah well… There is no talisman against time.
Yesterday I went to my third physical therapy session. My PT guy is on vacation (spring break) so I had a different therapist. I liked him, too.
Today I saw my neighbors. They are a decade or so older than I. B had surgery to repair his thumb. Part of a tendon in his wrist was cut out to replace worn cartilage in his thumb. He’s cruising around with a cast holding his thumb in place.
It’s pretty miraculous. I thought of Mrs. Thornton, my piano teacher when I was in 6th and 7th grade. The arthritis in her hands was so bad she was in constant pain and couldn’t play. To add to the pain she already suffered was all of our bad playing. She just hit us when we made mistakes, or dragged our hands against the keys if we fucked up an arpeggio. No one was repairing arthritic hands back in the 60s.
At the moment it seems like the main focus of my life is on preparing for a new hip. It really does take a lot of time and, the morning after PT can be quite painful. This morning I woke up wondering why I’m doing it. There is no fountain of youth. I thought, “This is my version of a facelift.”