It has been a beautiful, sunny day – but cold, cold
out there. I have had a cheerful email from Helen saying that all is well at
Burnside, and that our snowdrops are in fine form. They are one of the features
of the house. I am still afraid that the weather may take her by surprise and
snow her in – the house is downhill from the road, and the forecast grows more
sinister later in the week. It’s no use worrying.
I have knit only a little. I hope to do a little more
this evening. Today was bath day – stepping into the tub gets harder every
week. Getting out is slightly easier. (At my fancy nursing home, if I get
there, one sits on a plastic chair under a shower while one's attendants do the work) That’s all I’ve done, apart
from exercises and cooking what proved to be a rather unsatisfactory Mindful
Chef lunch. They can’t win ‘em all. Cooking even the simplest dish is fairly
strenuous when you’re pushing a zimmer frame around the kitchen. The horrors of
surgery are worth facing if they offer the possibility of freer movement. Meanwhile Daniella
has brought me some lasagne which will do fine for supper.
One of my very favourite Times columnists has just
survived surgery, which she dreaded as I do: that’s encouraging. She is Melanie
Reid, who is quadriplegic after falling off a horse. Despite the “quad-“ she
has quite a lot of function in her right arm – and now she’s got cancer in her
right breast, and was worried that the operation would disable the arm. But she
has survived, and is well enough to write an article. She has had lots more
operations that I have; it’s sort of comforting to know that she was afraid,
and that she is alive. I had tonsils and appendix and the removal of a large
birthmark from my left shin in childhood, but things have been calmer since, and childhood was a long time ago. I
still make myself aware of that birthmark and its scar if I suddenly need to distinguish
left from right.
Wordle: my second starter word handed me the answer
today: grn, grn, ???, grn, grn – and I already had the missing letter as a
brown from the first starter word. If only I had reversed the order of the
starters, I might have scored two. I’ve never had a two. So I got three today.
Ketki and her son Thomas, with fours, were the only ones to do even slightly
worse.
Tamar, yesterday’s word of which such disapproval was
expressed, was PINKY.
I would say that PINKY was an unorthodox word for Wordle. Janet in Seattle.
ReplyDeleteI loathe using the word pinky for the little finger but have to all the time when teaching piano lessons. Especially if they learn violin or wind instruments, because they use 1 2 3 4 for fingers, but pianists use 1 2 3 4 5 for thumb and fingers, and they get hopelessly confused.
ReplyDeleteI must agree, pinky is, I don't know, declasse?
ReplyDeleteChildish? We just called it the little finger.
There are bath chairs sold for home use. They have one end inside the tub and the other end outside, and one simply sits and slides over to get in and out.
Even just five years ago I was able to bounce back mentally from minor catastrophes more breezily than I do now. All the more reason to stay as bodily agile as possible. But everything very gently, of course. The two-sided chair sounds really great - as long as someone is nearby since there might be balance issues. (My mother had to take her first shower in her early eighties - she had a chair in it also - for your very reasons.) You are my example, Jean, for steadfast resistance to taking the easier path - keeping mentally and socially engaged, and despite physical limitations, able to live independently by doing everything possible to enable yourself to do so. Not to mention maintaining your sense of humor (which we all appreciate!). (More cheerleading once you have your surgery date). Chloe
ReplyDeleteMy father put off hip surgery for several years. He regretted the delay because it made him mobile again. There is less pain involved than in knee replacement surgery. He breezed through the entire hip regime. He was elderly too. You go gal!
ReplyDeleteweavinfool