New perspectives

Have you ever stopped to think what is involved in putting on a coat? No, I didn’t think so. It is something you do without thinking until you find yourself without certain key muscles. The general strategy, by memory and observation, is to fill the sleeves, one arm at a time, and then at the key moment, give a shrug of your shoulders and flick the coat into position. However, in the absence of those important shoulder muscles, you need to try and get one side of the coat hooked onto your shoulder after inserting the first arm  and hope that you can locate the second sleeve and force the other up before gravity pulls the first side down again. If you get the timing wrong the coat falls down and binds both your arms behind your back as if you were in a straightjacket. (As winter approaches it is becoming even more difficult because I am wearing bulkier clothing).

How about turning over in bed? The only time I have struggled in the past is whilst nursing an injury caused by yet another bike accident, but that was largely because I was trying to protect a wound rather than because neither my arms or legs gave me the power I needed to effect the manoeuvre. I can roll onto my side from my back if I grab hold of Sally and use her as an anchor point, which is acceptable when first getting into bed, but somewhat less welcome in the middle of the night when she is fast asleep.

A few weeks ago I was lying in bed one morning and thought it might be possible to effect a turn from right to left on my front. Big mistake. I organised my arms and legs in what I thought might be a helpful pose, got half way through the turn and got stuck with my face down in the pillow. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t turn back again either. It will be apparent, given I am  writing this, that I did manage to extricate myself from the predicament, but it was touch and go at one point. Sally was oblivious to my difficulty as she was downstairs making the morning cuppa.

Another example of how my perspective has changed is in relation to drinking liquids (mine’s a pint thanks very much). As you know I have always been a person who sees a glass half-full, but nowadays that glass has to be straight-sided, preferably with a handle, otherwise I can’t tip it far enough back to drink out of it: without it the glass remains half-full, but for all the wrong reasons! I have taken to offering Sally the last bit of wine from my glass because I can’t physically empty it – a caring responsibility that Sally embraces enthusiastically.

I am writing this update having just finished wrestling with the wood burning stove. I used a ‘grabber’ to insert the balled up newspaper and kindling, but it was not man enough to lift the logs into place. That required a combination of balancing the log on the edge of the stove and giving it a shove with a poker, coupled with a lot of good luck. Get it wrong and the logs jam in the wrong place and you can’t shut the door, leaving the room filled with smoke. Swearing loudly whilst tackling the task does seem to help though. 🤭

I used to wonder why old people who have had a fall find that they can’t get themselves up. It is simple, just roll onto your front, get up on your hands and knees and crawl to somewhere where you can hang onto something to pull yourself up.  I wonder no more. Instead I now watch people carrying things up steps for instance without needing to hold onto a rail  thinking ‘How do they do that? Is that normal?’

A friend of mine is writing a piece from the perspective of a person suffering the debilitating effects of Long Covid. It starts ‘My house is full of mountains. And each morning as I lie in bed I map out a new route to the summit‘. That summarises, in 23 words, my everyday experience.

Each day I have to make adjustments to make even the most basic tasks do’able. When you have a body that performs rather like those collapsing figures that go all floppy when you push a button beneath the base, you can’t afford to take anything for granted. What was achievable yesterday might not be feasible today, but don’t write it off, because tomorrow is another day. I am learning to live with uncertainty and learning to live with limitations. We may be in lockdown, but every day is an adventure … just not in the way I had envisaged.

Before I sign off I thought you might enjoy this photo that was taken on the Kennet and Avon Canal in Bath yesterday by one of my former colleagues on the Canal & River Trust team. The perfect reflection makes it difficult to tell which of the photos is the right way up. See what you think.

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