For many years, I’ve been plagued by that all-too-common ailment known as “a bad back.” Generally, a few days taking it easy will cure it. It strikes unexpectedly and for little apparent reason, leaning over the sink to brush my teeth, or reaching too high in the cupboard, things I usually do with no ill effects.
Several years ago, I discovered some things about loneliness, vulnerability, disability, and good old-fashioned fear, things that normally we can avoid, solve or at least cope with. Alone, except for Babe our Golden Retriever, I meant to do some work on our little vacation house in northwest Iowa.
You guessed it, I had no more than arrived when the back went. I left most of my things in the car and dived into the nearest bed, certain that my back would feel better in the morning. It didn’t.
It took me twenty minutes to figure out how to get out of bed without psychedelic pains shooting up my spine and down my legs. Then, having managed to make toast and coffee, I took another ten minutes to figure out how to sit down again without hurting myself.
Usually, when I have a back attack, there is someone around to turn on a light, bring me food, look after the dog, fetch aspirins, or just talk to me. This time, I was on my own.
During the next few days, I learned that dressing and undressing without help are not worth the pain they cause, and that certain items of underwear become permanently welded to your skin after three days. I discovered that nobody lets the phone ring long enough for you to answer it when you move at a speed of ten inches per minute.
I found that overhead light cords shrink when they sense back pain in the room, and that all dropped objects roll at once behind 300-pound pieces of furniture. The one exception to this is in the case of anything remotely edible. Such things, when dropped, become legal property of the dog.
Babe and I discovered that you can’t pour water into a bowl on the floor without bending over. And, that dog food nuggets bounce out of a plastic bowl and roll about like marbles when dropped from a standing position. Babe discovered that she need only stay just beyond my reach to have complete freedom. This caused her to try out the comfort of a bed. A new experience for her, she decided that a rug was no longer a suitable place for a nap.
I came to appreciate smooth linoleum floors over which I could easily slide a kitchen chair as a makeshift walker. I found it handy to build sandwiches right in the refrigerator rather than carrying the fixings to the table and back again. I learned that you don’t spill much coffee if you just tip the pot rather than lift it, and that water quenches thirst without bothering with ice cube trays. When you’re alone, there are times when dropping a pencil can be a major catastrophe, and closing a window, an insurmountable challenge.
Past experience had made me view my predicament as temporary. Having to deal with it all alone made me fear that, someday, it might be permanent. I am now just realizing the reality of that notion. I’ve added a few discoveries and made additional concessions to growing infirmity. I learned that it is foolish to put often-used items away in the cupboard, and wise to advise helpful relatives to leave things where you can reach them, forget about tidiness. Paper plates and plastic utensils save a lot of time and effort. A sandwich can be built on, and eaten from, a paper towel. Bottled water, kept in the fridge, eliminates messing with ice cubes and you don’t need to pour it into a glass to drink it. Those plastic grocery bags are useful for many things, to carry several items all with one hand, as makeshift laundry bags and wastebaskets. It’s smart to keep a note pad and pen handy, and a list of things that need doing for those times when someone asks, “Is there anything I can do for you while I’m here?” You betcha, there is.
FOOD FOR THOUGHT: Learning to do it the easy way
August 18, 2022