So Much For Bird Poop Good Luck

If you recall, just a couple of weeks ago I got poop bombed by some bird.  Not while I was standing under a tree with a big poop here sign on my head but as I was a passenger in a moving vehicle with the window only rolled halfway down.  Not only did it land on my leg closest to the half-opened window, it also hit my arm that was close to the window and hit my brand-spankin’ new purse that was on the total other side of me.

You can, perhaps, now see why I often times feel rather bleak.  This sort of shyte (thanks Serenity for awesome spelling on such a shyttie word) (no shyttie pun intended – sort of) happens to me all the time.

falling... and falling some more

The details of my great grief at the moment can wait for later.  But I did want to share my latest falling episode.  My first fall came from jumping up and down on a shovel while the dolly for moving the heavy pots of soil was right beside me.  I fell directly onto it.

severely bruised leg

It felt like a had broken my thigh bone, but luckily my leg was only severely bruised from the hip down to my knee.   And stayed that way for months, slowly fading, of course.  Hurt like Hades.  The pic is not my bruise, but it looked just like that.

Then there was the big fall in the pool last year, separating my arm from the rest of my body and breaking my complete right side.  Okay, okay.  So it didn’t separate my arm or break anything, but it felt like it did!  The arm is much better after months of therapy, but is still in the healing process.

Then Sunday past as I was pushing the grandgirls on the swings at the park, as I was rushing from one swing to the other lest either one of the precious ones might per chance slow down  a fraction in their swing stride, as I was doing all this in flip-flops, I lost my footing in the loose gravel/wood chips/sweetgum tree balls.  (The persistent fruit is a woody head of two-celled capsules. Each capsule contains two tiny, black seeds. When they fall, they become the spiny balls that clutter lawns.) Fruit?  I thought they were weapons of torture.  Have you ever stepped on one of those when you were bare-footed?  Fruit?!  I think not!

So here are the four-days-after pic of my knee that bled all over the place and my toe/foot that felt broken.  And, no, it is not the same big toe that was clobbered by the five-gallon can of stain at Menard’s.

Does that not look like it hurt?!

The toe is bruised all over! How 'bout that polish?

The outcome of all these falls is the decision that it’s time.  Time for those Rockports.  You know, the black walking shoe that we need to start wearing once we get to the point we can’t stay standing.  The shoe that goes along with the “I-can’t-get-up” necklace.  “I wonder if I kept Mom’s?”  The shoe that says “Yeah, I’m old.”

So I went to the Rockport site, and yee-haw!!!!  I like them!!!

I could wear this.

P.S.  The prayers are helping.  🙂

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.