I’ve been battling
a condition caused by a combination of my scoliosis (which never gave me a
moment’s trouble before August of 2019) and the aftermath of my hip replacement
surgery (coincidentally, in August of 2019). I won’t bore you with the many
details, but this happened yesterday.
I started back
with the Physical Therapist I was with in March of 2020, the one I had to quit
for the pandemic. They start everything over after a 6 month hiatus, so I
filled out the form again. There was a section asking what things are affected,
and how much they’re affected, by my pain. The part that made me laugh was “social
activities.” They wanted to know how my social activities are impacted, things
like dancing and sports.
Hilarious! Dancing? Sports? They’re dealing with a woman who is happy she can walk. In discussion with another writer about my age, we both laughed about the social life thing. She thinks it made the pandemic easier on her to not have one in the first place. Nothing to miss. I might agree with her on that.
The only part I
lament is my inability to handle my flowerbeds over the past couple of years. I
can hire people to weed (after trying to find them for a long, long time), but
they don’t weed like I would. They don’t do it right! I just discovered there’s
a big pokeweed and several baby maple trees growing in my beautiful rhododendron
right now. I broke off the pokeweed, but also need to cut off the trees. It
would be best to dig them out, but I’m not up to that!
I count myself
lucky that I haven’t had trouble concentrating on my writing during the plague.
I know lots of writers have had that problem. Maybe I had good practice using
my writing as escape in other situations in past years. Whatever, I’m so happy
to be able to work on my projects and to even get some of them published.
Do you have
leftover trauma from the pandemic? Or are you able to do things better now than
you could during the shutdown? Or was your life mainly unaffected? We’re all
Rhododendron and bookshelf photos by me
images from pixabay.com