but don't bet on it. In the past 5 years things have not got easier, but sometimes I manage well. You young people will find that tolerance for pain changes, but still it is not in control. When I get angry at myself because I don't feel able to go out, I think maybe I should stop being the control freak many consider me to be. Why must everything go my way?
After I sold the house and moved into this kindergarten of wrinkled babies, I thought things would be easier. My seeing eye was getting dimmer and the doctor said if I found I couldn't function we would do cataract surgery--my choice. I got a bigger monitor. My legs were getting quite balkish. I started arthritis water aerobics. Once I might have died from a nose bleed. The ambulance got me to ER just as I was losing consciousness. But nothing hurt like my hands which went numb. It took both of them to lift a half glass of water. (C7 was acting up badly.) The chiropractor advised doing nothing between visits. I sat downstairs and got acquainted with the ladies who have nothing to do but sit and talk about bad husbands, the number of prescriptions, and what the menu for the next day will be. The biggest problem I ever had (worse than a blown cornea which left me screaming or a heart which left me hanging on the rail) was the hand episode where I had so many dreams of writing once I didn't have to cut grass and take care of dogs. Journal entries were scratches to record what new task I had performed. I had come here to write and read. Slowly but surely I was able to get back at the keyboard. That was six years ago. Now I'm good for 2K at a time. Not that's it's easy to keep up the speed which kept me from starving in my youth. My right hand is beginning to take on the appearance of a pretzel. And the little finger on my left hand doesn't drive straight which means I hit the control key instead of shift. And off I go, who knows where? I never know what letter I was about to type by the time I find I did wrong. The ring finger of my right hand has a terrible time of driving straight. But heck! Since December I can see. The lens implant worked. If it hadn't I wouldn't have been able to accept your invitation to come to the kitchen. My pacemaker is still doing well. My appetite is good. I have you folks in the evening. In the day I have my long time friends, who once were my neighbors. And some of those ladies whom I met during my worst bad hands times are now my friends.
I guess I've never had really bad pain. A fibroid tumor wasn't fun. But that was when I was still in my forties and thought I could handle what came my way. It was silly of me to have two wisdom pulled out, which left me hoping I'd learn better next time.
What really hurts is not feeling like talking with people. That has not happened often.
Does this help? I don't feel your pain, Liza. Bill Clinton ruined that saying for me. I think you are a classy lady and very sagacious. Listen to your body. It's telling you that you've made it through worse times, but you need to take care of it. As I tell my child friends, a body is the temple for the soul. Que te suenas con los angeles!