If you have been reading my blogs and/or the Raven Newsletter, you may remember me writing a piece bewaling the perversity of knees which refuse to do the things they were designed for i.e. bending and straightening. Well this year things were not improved in the 'walking about' field when I managed to snap a tendon in my foot/ankle.
Of course it is improving, but as you get older you notice how much more slowly these things get better than they did when you were younger. It has meant that getting round a small supermarket has become a BIG achievement, and any visits anywhere have to be planned like a military campaign as basically I can go 20-30mtrs then I will HAVE to sit down. It also means we have to do a kind of 'plea bargaining' when Graham and I want to do several shops in one go, such as: well if I don't go round that shop, I should be able to get round the next one, but that will knacker me for anything else.
It has also meant that I can't go into pedestrian areas if there are no seats within easy reach, or if I do manage it, by the time I get to a seat I will be knackered and won't be able to make it round any of the shops. It is annoying and frustrating.
Incidentally there is NOTHING wrong with my mentality, my brain has not been switched off and I have not reverted to childhood. So why do people speak to me sometimes as if I am retarded or need to be humoured?
A few times recently we have attempted to go to a Boot Sale - I love finding treasures! But unless we are parked right next to the stalls, I cannot make it from the car to the stalls and back again. Which has meant Graham having to go round on his own - and you never know what that will lead to (well actually I can tell you what that will lead to now, he will find another exercise machine!).
This weekend Alford Craft Market is on. A great place to visit, as you might imagine a whole market full of fab hand made stuff, from pottery and cushions to paintings and jewellery. For many years we had a stall at the market, selling a variety of goods starting with hand made cosmetics and creams and ending up with hand painted glassware, and we still try and go to have a look around and meet up with old friends.
But this year, there was no way I could make it to the Manor House grounds from the car park, so Graham had to go on his own.
So we are thinking about getting a wheelchair for me.
I have been fighting this for a while as to me it feels like giving in. I should be able to walk, and if I could walk a bit more, I know eventually I would get better at it - but in actuality it is meaning that I am going nowhere, I am spending hours just sitting in the car waiting for Graham to do stuff and the pair of us are missing out on doing stuff together.
'Sounds just like my mum,' said Maggie on the Craft Market, 'She wasn't having a stick to walk with, then she had to have a stick. Then she wasn't having a wheelchair, now she has a wheelchair and it is so much easier for everyone, and she gets to go places with my dad.'
To be honest, now I have allowed myself to start thinking about the possibilities, I am starting to think this might not be a bad idea.
It may even give me more exercise as I shall be pushing myself around at least some of the time, and if I can wheelchair to a shop, then I can walk around the shop and know I won't be stuck at the end of it.
Wonder if I could do Robin Hood's Bay ? ....
I stopped getting older after I turned 39 ... and that was more than 25 years ago now.
ReplyDeleteBut even I notice the tell-tale signs of creeping decrepitude. Aches and pains, the old ticker doesn't beat right, you get winded after only a few steps.
Worst of all: people around you no longer seem to take you seriously ... your valued opinion is no longer valued ... or so you fear. And that is the key word: FEAR. We fear the loss of our faculties. It is grief ... the grief of saying farewell to our vitality ... farewell to the best years of our lives.
But wait! It is above all fear of the unknown ... fear of something new and different. Increasing age brings with it a fear of change ... a tendency to dig in our heels and say: I'm not going to budge! All of our favourite shops close, our favourite products and shoes and everything else are discontinued.
And we panic.
Stuff and nonsense! Part of the joy of being a witch is embracing change ... bringing about change ... turning the world into a magical place.
So I recommend to you that you decide now to undertake change with just the same sense of joy and wonder with which you undertake your magical work ... which is not work at all ... but rather joy!
If you need a walking stick, then forget those dreadful NHS things ... find yourself a fabulous stick suitable for a wise old witch. Bring it to life, make it a part of you ... make it magical.
And if you need a wheelchair ... then festoon it with garlands, wreaths, streamers ... perhaps a nice bell or even a horn. Bring it to life and make it magical and joyful.
Above all ... be an inspiration to others to fill their own lives with joy ... and magic.
Thank you so much for your lovely, positive, reply.
DeleteI have never minded getting older, as I know that what you see isn't the 'real' me. But suddenly realising that I am more crap in the walking department than I had actually let myself see, has annoyed me more than it ought.
I suppose because I tend to think that people will think that I am some sort of malingerer, when I can actually still walk a bit. And yet why should it matter what other people think anyway? - I wouldnt have a white streak in my otherwise (dyed) black hair if I worried too much about that.
You are right about embracing the change and making it positive, and once I had allowed myself to think about the possibilities I could start to see that there were and are positives to this too.
But i like the idea of making my chair a magical transport - i have a witch dangling in the car, and a charm bag in one of the pockets, why not do the same for a wheelchair?
Love the idea of a horn - make the buggers jump out of the way :)
Thank you again, that really has brought a smile to my face.