Body Betrayal: Broken Glass

I broke a wine glass last night. It was one of my favorites, a perfect match to the one on the left, and I loved it. Woe is me! It was also half-full of white wine and ice. It didn’t simply break at the stem. No, the glass shattered into at least twenty pieces, some large, others mere shards. It doesn’t help that the family room where the television is located is in the basement. Beneath the flooring is a good, old-fashioned cement floor.

Why did I break the glass? It certainly wasn’t because I wanted to or that I was angry. It wasn’t because I’d had too much to drink or wasn’t paying attention. It was simply an accident, one of many I’ve had in the last couple of years as my arthritis gets worse.

Could I have prevented this? I don’t know, but since both of my parents had it, it’s doubtful. Have I waited too long to seek medical attention? Maybe, not because it costs me anything, but because, with COVID 19 and my mother’s failing health, I wanted to avoid exposure to others and the long waits to see the doctor. Now that the virus is more or less under control and my mother is gone, I had no excuse.

With an appointment, I waited an hour, and by noon, I’d had a number of X-rays, blood tests, urine tests, and an EKG. Pretty efficient I’d say. The blood work is in, and there’s nothing of great concern. Now, I wait for the other results.

So, what happened last night? I reached for the bowl of the glass with my hot little hand, but my thumb, the digit that supposedly sets me apart from the other animals on this planet, refused to do its job and securely clasp the glass. What good is an opposable thumb if the damn thing doesn’t work?

According to the Museum of Natural History, opposable thumbs are a charactetistic shared by all primates, but the human hand is unique. The human opposable thumb is longer, compared to finger length, than any other primate thumb. This long thumb and its ability to easily touch the other fingers allow humans to firmly grasp and manipulate objects of many different shapes. Right!

Sadly, mine no longer works properly. In the picture on the right, my hand is open as wide as it gets. If I join the tip of my thumb to the tip of my index finger, I get a lovely D, not the O that indicates a healthy thumb. Note the way my wrist is also swollen. It’s also loaded with arthritis, as are every major joint in my body. Believe me. This is not something I hoped for since there’s no cure. Does it hurt? All the time, but some days are worse than others. Luckily, I’ve adapted the way I use the computer to meet this disability, so its impact on my writing is minimal, but the rest of my lifestyle is about to undergo major changes. Am I happy about it? No, since each minor accident, like last night’s glass, reminds me that sooner or later, I could end up unable to travel or do many of the things I enjoy.

There are different types of arthritis. Mine is ostioarthritis. Click here to learn more about this crippling disease that affects so many. I sincerely hope you aren’t or won’t be one of them. https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/osteoarthritis/symptoms-causes/syc-20351925

In the meantime, what can I do, beyond accepting my situation? I can adapt and compromise, the other qualities sentient beings have that sets them apart from the animals. I now carry a cane when I leave the house, both for balance and security. I limit the distance I walk, having gone from a minimum of 10,000 steps a day only three years go to something more manageable that doesn’t leave me in agony. Some days, I’ll come close to those 10,000 steps; on others, I’ll be lucky to manage 2,500. I’ve given up trying to do my own housework, except laundry, and pay someone to come in every two weeks. With just the two of us here, the house doesn’t get all that dirty. I’ve exchanged my fluffy slippers for sturdy indoor shoes that keep my feet, knees, and legs resonably straight and invested in new slip-on Sketchers. My old sandals have been replaced, and I’ve waived bye-bye to all of my heels. I also make a point of getting up from my desk and moving around every time my Smart watch tells me to do so. If I don’t, I stiffen up and that’s far from pleasant.

My granddaughter came over last weekend and helped me get my flowerbeds ready. While she weeded, I sat and took care of my many planters–easier to put a flower pot among the perrenials than plant in the ground. In July, my bathroom is being renovated to include a walk-in therapeutic tub, comfort level toilet, and a new basin and cabinets. If I want to stay in my home, in time I may need to considerer a stair-glide, but I can still see the scene from Gremlins when the old lady flew out the window, so that makes me a touch nervous. In a few weeks, I’ll have a handicap sticker for the car, too.

There are other things to consider. I’m extremely careful when using the stove, limiting myself to my smallest, lightest pots. The cast-iron pans were given away years ago. I replaced my bone china with lightweight dishwasher safe dishes, and this morning I ordered unbreakable wine glasses. Everything I buy from front-closure bras to underwear needs to be purchased with an “how difficult will it be to put this on?” attitude. No more wrestling with pantyhose. If I can’t go bare-legged, I’ll wear slacks.

I may be getting old and crippled, but I’m damn stubborn, too, and far from ready to give up traveling and having fun. Will I be going bungy-jumping? No, but a Caribbean cruise next summer sounds lovely.

Enjoy your weekend. I plan to.