Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes ...

Nikolaus Gyzis' painting:  Grandma Dancing with Granddaughters, 1883.

I'm reading Mary Pipher's recent book, _Women_Rowing_North_, in which she shares her ideas about being a woman as  entering her elder years. In her second chapter, Pipher wrote about ageism directly. The line that has stayed with me most clearly is this:

What women mean when they say 

"I'm not old," is

"I won't accept the ideas that culture has about me."

However, in the real world, I've been taking my grandchild to a weekly preschool music class where we delight in rhythms, songs, trying out instrument.  At circle time I used to sit down on the floor along with many (but not all) of the other parents and grandparents and their kids.  Those who chose to sit on chairs instead of on the floor had their reasons, but I liked to participate, even on days when, in order to stand up, I'd first have to get on my hands and knees then push up slowly.  I liked holding hands and laughing with my grandson as we sang. A little skipping and jumping was even okay, last year.  But now I don't skip nor jump, and I don't even try to sit on the floor any more. The reality is, it hurts to do so.  That's no cultural construct.

My knees were diagnosed as arthritic about the time I turned 60. During the ensuing 9 years I've learned to adjust.  I stopped pushing a wheelbarrow full of dirt or gravel when working in my raised beds or keeping up with the gravel paths.  Instead I'd push a half or one-third load and just make more trips, taking more time, to complete the jobs.  I developed more patience.  For big jobs, I hired my neighbor, who works for a landscaping company.

Then last week in St. Croix I turned a corner too tightly, too quickly, pivoting on my right foot.  I felt a "pop" and my right knee buckled, just gone, and pains shot up from ankle to hip.  Since then I've been hobbling, leaning on friends or a crutch, using the wheelchair service to get from the airport back to my home in Oregon.  Doctor's appointment.  MRI.  Waiting for the results.  Expecting to go through some physical therapy, hoping not to need surgery.

Quite a few of my similar-aged friends have had knee replacements recently.  My daughter has a torn ligament and will have surgery (she's not even 40 yet) so I do realize all knee injuries are not age related.  But for me, this is just one more setback that I know may cause me to slow down another notch.  

Chapter Three of Pipher's book is titled "The Worn Body."  She writes about her struggle with arthritis in her hands, and learning to deal with the reality of the accompanying pain and weakness:

When I first heard about my hands, 

I envisioned all the negative possibilities

- decrepitude, dependency, and a gradual deterioration

of all that mattered to me - 

but I realized the long view can be a perilous one to take.

None of us knows what will happen in our futures,

good or bad.

It is much more adaptive to focus on 

building one good day at a time.

We can learn how to make everything workable.

Our travails become crucible experiences that allow us to become stronger and kinder.