The Age of Adaptability

Just as all animals on earth adapt to survive, this year I have been adapting for my survival.  For the past decade, actually, I have been trying to adapt, however unwillingly.

First, it was the eyes.  I will never forget how mad I was at the opthomologist when he told me the reason my vision was blurry was because I was getting older.  I think I was just a young 42 at that time.

And, of course, I’ve been dealing with the joint pain (probably arthritis) since I was 28.  Every year finds a new ache somewhere deep within my bones.

Last year I added a new mix:  falling and dropping things.  The first fall was a year or so ago when I was standing on the shovel sort of jumping on it with both feet (it was fall; needed to get the plants out of the ground to the warm garage) and somehow just fell right over onto the dollie I use to trot my plants to the garage.  I landed right on my left thigh.  That thing was bruised, severely bruised, all the way to my knee with a big hump in it.  I went to the doctor, and everybody had to have a look.  It was one of the worst ones they had seen.

I learned my lesson on that one and now move the dollie out of the way!

This year I fell in the stinking pool (you’ve heard all about that at least once on here) and my whole right arm from the shoulder down to my wrist aches and hurts, and I can’t use it.

Over the weekend Darla wanted me and Dave to go for a nice leisurely evening at Carbondale.  Just as we were nearing town, Dave’s work called saying they needed him for an emergency.  So they dropped me off at Menard’s, and Dar took him back.  When she got in the parking lot at Menard’s, she called and I said I would be right there.

And I would have, too, if it hadn’t been for the gallon can of water sealer that fell on my foot, my big toe mainly.  And now my left foot aches and is bruised.  The good people at Menard’s got me a wheelchair and cleaned the blood up off the floor.  Dar got my picture in the wheelchair but I can’t figure out how to get it off my computer or even the card for that matter to show you just how cute I look in a wheelchair.  The geriatrics are going to so want me someday… someday soon it feels like.

I think I’m beginning to adapt to pain and aching.  Just in time.  My wheelchair days are around the corner.

Piano Lessons

Since I was out in the backyard digging in the flower bed (digging up sunflower seedlings), I almost missed my piano student.  I thought it was five… it was six.  This daylight savings time makes me lose track of the time.

Right now I am up to four students!!  Yippee!  I love it.

piano student

It’s so much fun to watch it come together as they learn to play.  And the books now are great; gets them moving on the piano with both hands right away.

My mom started me taking piano lessons when I was seven or eight.  Mrs. Jennings from Junction gave me lessons every Saturday.  When Darla started taking lessons — (Dar, tell that story) —

weird Japanese stuff

I would get to watch TV during her lesson.  There was always one of those weird Saturday movies on, a Japanese movie with dubbed in English, black and white, something like that.  They were great!

Mom made me practice maybe not every day, but often.  She wanted me to play piano at church, and when I was around 12, she got her wish.  It may have been with one finger a lot of times, but I began playing around then.  And so did Vickie Jerrells (now Vickery).  Vickie plays the organ (the best I’ve ever heard) and I play the piano.  We have played together at church for many, many years now with some intermittent times of playing with other people.

wish we had one of these at church

ours isn't quite this big

I can see us still playing when we are very old, our hands all gnarled with arthritis, pounding away because we can’t hear, with sour looks on our faces because… well, we’re all old and gnarly.  That’s enough reason to look sour!