aging – On Writing, On Life

Oil painting on canvas (partial), Kupka, 1909.

It all started on a sparkling, sunlit day in mid November, 2022. I walked among the fallen leaves of my one time neighborhood around St. Margaret Mary’s church, on Dodge St. Then, I crossed the street and walked around the campus of the University of Nebraska at Omaha, looking at art in its galleries.

This is something I do often (take long walks) and have done since my early 30’s, when I gave up jogging.

The next day, and for several days after, I experienced intense leg pain, specifically around my knees, (above, below, and on each side of them). This was something new. I wondered if this was a turning point, in my aging process. I wore the same shoes as always, and the distance seemed about the same as on other walks.

So, I rested.

A few days later, all seemed well. So I went on my usual jaunt to the Dodge St. Salvation Army Thrift Store to drop off some donations. It’s a familiar, less than a mile, walk. I enjoy doing that.

I decided to take a different route back, and was extra careful of turning traffic at intersections. One of them had an island that I stopped at and then caught the driver’s eye before proceeding. It made me slightly self conscious and overly confident, I think, showing what a good, strong walker “this near old lady” was.

As I stepped off the curb, still kind of looking at the driver, I misjudged the step and slid a little on gravel, wrenching my left knee (OUCH!) as I avoided a fall. I made it home, hobbling and humbled.

So, for a week or two, RICE (Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation) was my treatment. Our rarely used footstool became a favorite thing. No Alleve was necessary, although my Doctor of Pharmacy daughter-in-law told me to take it daily to avoid swelling (a good idea).

In early December we went to visit our son’s family in Norman, OK. Three dogs are members of that family. One of them, Murphy, a muscular Boxer type, really liked me, which I loved. On our second day, he caught me off guard by an overly enthusiastic greeting bump, to my right leg, right side, around the knee and hamstring. OUCH AGAIN!

Molly, 15, looked sympathetically at me, quietly expressing her sorrow at my pain, and comfortingly at her dog, seemingly assuring him, “It’s OK, you’re still our pal.”

This brought up the conversation of dogs knocking people down. I held my ground, not falling, but oh, did it hurt!

Bending my leg was impossible. I think we iced it. Jack, 18, brought me a battery operated massager, like they use at football games along the sidelines for injured players. I kind of laughed in my mind, imagining me as an athlete, ha ha.

They also gave me a stretchy workout band to help stretch the muscle.

Two Alleves were taken. It felt good to be so well taken care of!

There were two things that were especially hard to do: getting into bed (I had to “lift” my leg with both hands and put it up on the bed), and, to get into the car the next morning. Both things we take for granted!

In the months since, I’ve come to realize that standing or walking is fine, once I get going. It’s the sitting too long to read, write, eat a meal, or watch TV that gives me painful knees when I get up (very slowly).

All of this is not to ask for your pity; it’s just that I’m an expressionist who likes to tell about things as they are. There are many people going through worse pain and adjustments. If, for instance, I ever have a knee replacement, I expect that to be a very hard thing.

Recently we traveled to AZ to visit family. The young man helping us with our luggage saw me limping and offered advice, “The best thing for your joints is Vick’s Vaporub.” I like the scent of that, every once in a while; it’s comforting, and I think it helps.

As it continues to heal, I’m reminded of a couple of things. One is the phrase “On my knees” which generally means prayer. The other is my neighbor on Farnam St., Linda, who told me years ago that the only way to clean a floor is on your knees. I plan on ignoring her, and will continue to use a mop.

I’m going to end this with examples of workers on their knees. The first is an art piece that I’ve always liked, “The Floor Scrapers”, an 1875 painting by French Impressionist, Gustave Caillebotte. It makes me think of scraping and refinishing the oak floors at our first house on 55th and Jackson, in Omaha, which is the second photo, from 1979.

Take care always,

Shirley

Shirley Neary

Dan and Shirley with baby Bryan, back home in Carroll, IA, for a visit.

Today, I’m reading a novel where the child asks his father what it’s like to get older. I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately. I guess I was thinking about it back on June 9, 2010 also when I wrote this:

Young mother, young father, young child. That was us in 1973. One year into marriage, family and continued college life. Part time jobs, intramural games for Dan, dance classes for me: Modern (which involved getting up on a chair) and Arabic (also known as belly dancing) through the “Y”.

Small dwelling. A mobile home purchased with my parents’ co-signing the loan. It cost $2,000.00, and that included the deck extension. We moved that home from Breda, IA to Towncrest Mobile Home Court in Iowa City, IA.

Young marrieds next door arguing loudly and throwing dishes at 2 AM. Me selling Avon door to door. Dan janitoring at Hillcrest boys Dormitory (now demolished). Me, getting a full time job at University Hospital in the File department, after dropping out of college. Dan, picking up our son, Bryan, from the sitter after class, and bringing him to visit me at work, placing him up on the counter for a bit.

Me taking tennis lessons over my lunch hour—Imagine! Some days watching soap operas in the break room with co-workers. Every day eating my home packed lunch.

A move to Omaha in 1975 for Dan’s new job with a $12,000.00 annual salary. I would never again take a full time paid job. But I always knew that I could if I had to, or wanted to.

My evening Organic Chem class was a favorite. The professor set up a coffee bar, with powdered creamer; such a treat!

Going back to school at UNO (University of Nebraska Omaha), living in a Benson apartment, then house, 3 more children, a big 96 lb. dog, and lots of neighbors/friends to meet. Getting a degree while settled into our 2nd Omaha house in west Omaha near 120th St. Discovering quilts and gardening along the way to add to general creative, artistic outlook on life. Laughing often, with Dan and kids, at Dan, at kids, at myself, and by myself thinking about Dan and kids.

First quilt, “Soft Hearts”, 1994, donated to Essential Pregnancy Service.

One of my first gardens, trying to re-create a rainbow.

1997, a family move to Long Island, New York, at age 45—our big adventure.

1998, coming back to Nebraska after 1 year and an ethically challenging experience. Tears all around. Some called it a Baptism by Fire.

Somewhere, back in N. Y., I got older. I no longer moved without thinking about it. I was active as ever, but now I was more AWARE of my movements. I felt like I had to chart my course each day to stay on track.

Like telling myself this: I will get up, go shower, go downstairs, make coffee. Along the way, pick up lint on the carpet (sometimes), open blinds, walk to laundry room. Anyhow, I no longer just DID things. I now had a heightened awareness of each action.

Enjoying excellent health, I thought it was due to my nutritious eating, early AM walks, and optimistic outlook. I really didn’t understand illness and disability.

So, now at age 57 (in June, 2010), how humbling it is to have a painful knee for no apparent reason, and not to be able to keep up with fellow travelers at the airport. I’m on every moving sidewalk, standing still, and every escalator.

No dancing on this trip, inconceivable!

Note: On 9-23-2010, I wrote that the awareness of knee soreness is still there, but I’m walking up steps, around NYC for 2 days, and dancing a little. I think it’s getting better!

Shirley

Tag: aging

On My Knees

On Getting Older; Being Younger