Every day it is becoming more and more obvious that my mortal foes, time and gravity, are going to win. They are relentless, and I am human, and I tire myself out fighting them.
Sometimes I temporarily win, like when I'm swimming. Or counting Sefirot HaOmer, or working with the Hebrew Calendar. Or in a bath. Otherwise though, I'm losing.
Entering Year 3 of mobility impediment! The Great Fall of Memorial Day Weekend 2021 which wrecked havoc on both my knees and triggered the Mother of All Fibromyalgia conditions, has knocked me out of the adventure business.
But haven't I traveled? To Minneapolis, to be with my son while he was in the hospital? Up and down the coast of California so many times I had to move downstate? Back up to the Bay Area for Dead & Company? A cross-state jaunt to see my daughter and grandchildren? Miami for a music award show honoring my BFF? Carbondale, Illinois for the Great American Eclipse, Part 2? All that while limping, and in the case of the Great Miami Airport Horror Story, which re-injured my injury, sometimes via airport wheelchair service - and now walking with a cane?
Yes, but does that "count"? My expectation (based on nothing but hope) was that I could continue to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted to, and my two legs would take me there without thinking or pain. The way I used to walk all over Jerusalem - now I can't even imagine how I'd get there. This is the basis of the semi-miasma which covers my view of the future now. All my future thoughts included me being able to walk. Now my current reality is that dealing with the pain and trying to heal is taking up all my energy. The energy I need to imagine a future is being sapped by dashed expectations.
Here is another adventure I *MAY* not have the time nor physical stamina and mobility to be able to experience: Sailing the Mediterranean on a 3-masted Windjammer. So much better than an overloaded cruise ship, and maybe the opportunity to smoke on board.
After all, what is the point of a private balcony on a ship (or anywhere else for that matter) if one cannot light up?
The worst part is that my only sibling, my younger sister, has been 100% bed-bound for the last two years, thanks (no thanks) to the ravages of MS. She can't walk at all, nor can she even move herself from side to side or turn over. When I feel sorry for myself (which is often), I think of how happy she would be to be able to stand and hobble about, which she'll never be able to do again. Then I feel ashamed, then I go into a spiral, and none of this helps anyone.
So what kind of future can I manage to invent for myself which features a limited mobility version of myself? Whenever I ask myself that question I go into a fugue state. Because I can't accept that I'm not going to heal from this. I AM going to heal from this - even though it's already been now starting Year Three, and the Miami Airport Incident set my healing back two years - I believe I will walk like my normal self again one day. One day, not tomorrow, but soon. G*d willing.
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