Day 10 in a rehab facility somewhere in Portland. Last week, I described the stupid but freaky accident that tore up the ligaments in one leg, causing excruciating pain and the search for the right ortho surgeon who knows how to fix these things. I think he primarily works with young Oregon athletes — football, baseball, track, etc. — and perhaps not a person of my dotage.
I loved this doctor immediately, although most doctors look (to me) like they are 12 years old. However, hunky and good-looking doesn't hurt, but at the time I met him, all I cared about was having him take the pain away. This was accomplished in surgery, then to a hospital and from there to a rehab facility, arranged by my wonderful Newport friend-nurse-advocate Kath Schonau of Aging Wisely With Heartfelt Hands.
By now I hope all of you readers know I am not here being detoxed from substance abuse or some terminal disease.
Here are a few of the worse things for me about rehab: Loss of all my independence. No weight bearing on that leg for weeks. Having to wear a horribly complicated brace I call “The Beast.” Having to push the call button for assistance in everything including my most personal needs (use your imaginations). There are many PTs and OTs here, but they let me specify female only — having a guy shower and/or dress me set my teeth on edge.
Here is the positive: Learning to accept reality and that this journey is temporary. Remembering my belief in the power of prayer. Attitude adjustment from grumpy/bitchy to being pleasant/cooperative. You catch more flies with honey vs. vinegar. Didn't your mom teach you that?
Of course, I long to go home, but that won't happen until Kath and Gina Nielsen make several changes in my house until I can walk again. Meanwhile, I will accept whatever I have to do that will result in returning to my beloved Oregon coast home.
I sent a "call out" to readers for clean, amusing stuff, and the following was contributed by Carolyn Waterson, of Branson, Mo.
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On a cool fall day, I pulled into the parking lot at the local shopping center and rolled down the car windows to make sure my yellow lab puppy had enough fresh air. She was stretched out on the backseat, and I needed to impress upon her that she must remain in the car and. I said, emphatically, "Stay, You stay! Do you hear me? Stay, stay." I said it over and over again as I backed away. Suddenly, the driver of a nearby car, a pretty young blonde woman, gave me a strange look and called, "Why don't you just put it in park and put the handbrake on?"
The older we get, the fewer things seem worth waiting in line for. Mostly because we forget why we were waiting in line in the first place!
Eventually you will reach a point when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it. This is so true. I love to hear them say, "You don't look that old."
Some people try to turn back their odometers. Not me! I want people to know why I look this way. I've traveled a long way, and some of the roads weren't paved.
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Thank you, Carolyn Waterson, for making our day, especially mine. With what is going on in our world, I believe we need all the grins and giggles we can get.
Bobbie Lippman is a professional writer who lives in Seal Rock. She is the author of “Good Grief: A Collection of Stories As One Woman Journeys From Heartbreak To Healing Through Honesty and Humor” (Dancing Moon Press). The book (with all proceeds going to Rotary International) is available at JC Market in Newport and directly from Bobbie, who can be contacted at [email protected]