Category: Health & Wellness

Some version thereof

Returning to golf triggered my sciatica, which came back in a roar. I’m on week two, and it’s improving a lot, but still. I just told Dale, you know, a couple of weeks ago I was doing the sit-to-stands where you pop up out of the chair 10 times in a row, and now I can barely wiggle my way up with my arms holding onto something for support.

But then I said, maybe those exercises helped me. It could be worse. And we both said at the same time, “Who fucking knows?” And then we laughed like lunatics, because it helps. Really.

Just because there isn’t enough drama at our house, I also have an incredibly intense stiff neck. This isn’t very Stoic of me, but let me tell you how I did that. It’s a classic case of no good deed goes unpunished.

When I had breast cancer, they removed lymph nodes for biopsies, which puts me at risk for lymphedema. It has been 10 years, but the risk never goes away. I had some swelling in the armpit where my fracture was, so I asked about that and was referred to the lymphedema clinic.

They said I don’t have lymphedema, but since I have compromised lymph nodes it might be prudent to do a few exercises to encourage drainage. She gave me a pamphlet with the exercises, which looked easy peasy. And so like the good girl that I am, I went home and did them. She knew I was recovering from a fractured proximal humerus, but even if she had said be careful, you aren’t who you used to be, I would probably have blown that off. These exercises did not look threatening.

The next morning I couldn’t move my neck. It feels like I aged 20 years. Maybe just a little too much considering what my body’s been through? Stress? Who fucking knows? It’s getting better, but in hindsight, why did I eagerly agree to a solution for a problem I didn’t have? I need to work on that.

And then there’s Dale’s knee. Partial ACL tear and some other stuff. We finally got to see a doctor, although we can’t see the “specialist” until August! But we saw our regular sports medicine guy, who we like very much. The doctor agreed with the “conservative management” plan, which means no weight bearing for at least six weeks and no surgery likely. He wants to see Dale again before we finally gets to the mother ship in August.

Dale feels pretty good, especially after seeing the doctor, who is an osteopath. I love me an osteopath. Dale has been referred to the same ortho I went to for my arm, which tells me it’s just a case of monitoring.

Just as I was whining about being able to do the sit-to-stands only a couple of weeks ago, Dale said I know! I was walking two miles after fracturing my pelvis, and now this. But we managed to turn on our inner Stoics. We are strong and resilient. This is just a minor setback.

A friend in the healing business told me it’s the year. This year. 2026. She said the shit has hit the fan with just about everybody she knows except her college-age daughter, who is having the time of her life.

Oh, sure, to be young and perky.

I was never too worried about aging, happy to be alive and all that, but whatever happened to you 20 or 30 years ago will be worse when it happens after 70. You heard it here first.

Dale and I have discussed it ad nauseum, and we’ve accepted this is our current reality. We also concluded this isn’t the beginning of the end. We didn’t go from healthy to doomed in a matter of months. We’ve led healthy, active lifes, and this is simply a string of bad luck. We will push through it and return to our former glory, or at least the creaky but glorious 70-somethings we were before all this went down.

Or some version thereof.

Philosophy 101 revisited

It has been a rough few months at our house. Dale fractured his pelvis in December, I broke my arm in January and just as both of us were recovering, Dale seems to have torn his meniscus. The medical system sucks in case you didn’t know, so a week ago he was told to rest and ice and not put any weight on it and wait for the MRI – which isn’t until next week.

The whole thing has been one big stress bomb, so I decided to shop around for a better way to cope with the challenges life throws at us. I’m 70, Dale turns 77 this month, and I don’t suppose this will get any easier. I keep wishing we could go back, that somehow this didn’t happen and certainly won’t happen again.

It turns out we can’t bend the universe to our will. I’ve spent a lot of time brooding about that. I wanted to explore a different perspective, but self-help books mostly annoy me. The chat bot recommended The Antidote: Happiness For People Who Can’t Stand Positive Thinking by Oliver Burkeman.

It’s a pretty good book, scholarly but humorous, although I still haven’t finished it. The chapter on the Stoics spoke to me as nothing previously had. Burkeman says Stoicism was invented in ancient Greece but perfected in Rome. I am a complete novice, so before you read any further, please accept my apologies if I got it all wrong.

Up until now, I didn’t have a guiding philosophy, Greek, Roman or otherwise. I took Philosophy 101 in college, and it appears that didn’t stick. If I had to guess, I’d say if anything, I was an Enlightened Hedonist … someone who pursues pleasure but is guided by reason, foresight and self-awareness.

There’s some overlap between Enlightened Hedonism and Stoicism, so it’s not like I have to ditch one for the other. But as I see it, the Hedonists are not really there for you when the chips are down. Stoicism helps you develop calmness in the face of trying circumstances.

The big wake up call for me was that being a Stoic doesn’t mean we have to be the miserable grin-and-bear-it type. Ideally, a practicing Stoic is joyful. Tranquil. We can pursue pleasure. We can have nice things. We just can’t define ourselves by those things or get too attached.

Tranquility is the ultimate goal. Not fiery electrocutions of happiness. Stoics believe tranquility is achieved by using the human power of reason to develop a calm indifference to whatever happens in life. It’s not about outcomes or whether something is good or bad.

The Burkeman book cites this example :

“A relative’s illness is bad only in the view of your belief that it’s a good thing for your relatives not to be ill. Millions of people after all get ill every day and we have no beliefs whatsoever about most of them and consequently don’t feel distressed … if you didn’t judge a relative’s illness to be bad, would be you distressed by it? The judgment is within our control.”

Whew – this stuff gets deep, and I’m just scratching the surface. To start, I memorized the four pillars of Stoicism and think about them throughout the day. Wisdom, courage, discipline and justice. The original Stoics used the word temperance for what we now call discipline or moderation.

I might reflect and ask myself, what is bothering me?  What was I expecting to happen? Were those expectations within my control? How can I use the pillars to shape a better response and stay tranquil?

The original Stoics such as Marcus Aurelius, Seneca and Epictetus are profound, and it will take years for me to read and fully appreciate their works. I’m reading bits of their stuff already, but I wanted beginner’s introduction, so I’m reading A Guide to the Good Life: The Ancient Art of Stoic Joy by William B. Irvine.  

The Daily Stoic by Ryan Holiday is another book that is often recommended. I’m on the waiting list at the library.

Yes, life is messy. I’m learning that the Stoic response is not about pretending everything is OK. It about trying to separate facts from the self-induced suffering caused by any number of emotions, including anger, selfishness or fear. The question becomes, “What part of my suffering comes from demanding that reality be different from what it currently is?”

Stoicism doesn’t ask you to like it, it just wants you to accept, adjust and do the next necessary thing.  

Healed!

In the category of a little good news at last, I visited the orthopedic doctor yesterday, and he declared my fractured proximal humerus fully healed. As you may recall, that’s a break in the arm up near the shoulder. No restrictions other than to use pain for a guideline as I return to activities.

He also said my range of motion was excellent for this stage, which is four months from the day I tripped over a power cord and went down onto a hard tile floor. I did my physical therapy religiously, and it’s nice my hard work paid off.

Of course, I still do have pain and expect more, but it’s not awful and I don’t have to fear the bone anymore. It’s all soft tissue recovery at this point.

I set up the golf net in the garage when I got home and hit a few wiffle balls. Today I will start with some sort of a program to re-enter the golf world. There are also lots of little things around the house I was avoiding due to restrictions on how much weight I can lift, but now I can get to those, too.

Again, I’m being mindful and taking it slow. I mentioned I’ve been studying Stoicism. In my last post, I had a little fun with it, but I am serious about this and have started to feel much better about a lot of different things. I’ll write more as this progresses, but I’m eager to share my experiences because I think it’s going to be a game-changer for aging and navigating the next phase of retirement.

I remind myself many times a day to live up to the four pillars — wisdom, justice, courage and moderation.

The need for distraction

Although I’ve been playing golf for 30 years, I didn’t realize until now what it does for me psychologically. I love the game, but it turns out I need the near complete distraction golf provides in my life. It seems I have been replacing it with doomscrolling, and um, just so you know. That doesn’t work.

Somehow golf hits the sweet spot for focus, movement, being outside and just enough mental challenge to occupy my mind. I don’t think about much of anything else when I’m playing, and believe me, that’s a good thing. You really don’t want to know what else goes on in there.

I’m 13 weeks post-fracture, so I’m guessing the earliest I might be able to play is June. More likely July. Although I am going to start putting and perhaps hit a few wiffle balls into a net at home. Now that my pain is quite manageable, I don’t want to do anything to mess that up.

I really can’t think of anything that so efficiently replaces my need for complete distraction. What in your life scratches that itch?

Art occupies me in some ways, but there’s a lot of time to daydream. And let me be clear. It’s not that daydreams are bad, it’s just that my daydreams are bad. My other hobby is ruminating on all things horrible.

Reading is a nice immersion experience, but again, my mind wanders. A good hike where you watch the scenery but also your footing might be close, but I’m still a long ways off from that, too.

The next best experience might be cooking. It’s missing the outdoorsy component, although I believe that’s a topic deserving of more thought. A long, complicated dish that takes all day to cook might come close to 18 holes.

These days I have to be so careful I don’t miss ingredients, and sometimes I improvise, so I’m giving cooking a few stars for focus and mental challenge. I should be awarded an advanced degree just for figuring out how to get my sourdough starter to rise with regularity.

Cooking and golf both offer the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. Golf is particularly good at defeat.

So, I’ve probably got another few months before recreational defeat, I mean golf, becomes an option. Cooking will have to be my lifeline. I celebrated my decision by going to the store and getting everything to make moussaka tomorrow. That will take all day. I usually fry the eggplant on the cooktop, but this time I’m going to try roasting it in the oven.

Earlier this week I made spinach pie. It was not the Greek style with feta cheese in phyllo but a variation with Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and puff pastry. This was my first time using frozen puff pastry. It was easy. I did have to roll it out a bit but it wasn’t too firm like my cookie dough and didn’t aggravate my arm.

The recipe called for frozen whole leaf spinach, but I could not find that. I ended up buying chopped, and it was fine. It has been a long time since I bought frozen spinach. I wonder where the whole leaf went?

I can definitely see an uptick in our grocery bills. The stuff for moussaka came to almost $70. That included two pounds of lamb, four eggplants, a dozen large eggs and a big hunk of Pecorino Romano cheese.

That will make at least eight servings, so it’s not all that bad if you do the math, but I’m grateful we can afford the ingredients we like to make wonderful food at home. I do not take it for granted.

Recalibrating! Recalibrating!

Today marks 12 weeks since I fell and fractured my proximal humerus. That’s up there near the shoulder, so some may call it a broken arm, and some may call it a broken shoulder. I call it absolute misery.

But it’s weird that today is my accidentversary, because the pain is now minimal, I’m sleeping better and I woke up today feeling, I don’t know, brighter? On this exact day. I have not been in a good place emotionally, but something lifted. Maybe it just takes 12 weeks to feel human again after a fall like that.

Prior to my accident, and prior to my husband’s accident, which preceded mine, I seemed to be breezing through retirement. Although I like to read and cook and create art, the bulk of my time is typically spent walking, swimming and playing golf. And all those have been pretty much off the table for three months.

Although I can walk just fine, I learned the hard way the shoulder goes through some serious movement when you walk and let your arms swing naturally. For an injury like mine, that means you can’t just walk and burn off all your frustration on the footpaths.

One of my shorter routes is about two miles. I wear my sling when I start and then take it off at various junctures. I’m now doing about half of it without the sling and improving fast. I expect to walk the full two miles slingless within a couple of weeks. And this might be a pipe dream, but I’m thinking once I can do the two miles regularly without pain, I can increase my mileage and maybe even hike.

I tell you this not because it’s all about me. Think of it as a public service announcement. Nothing is permanent. Change is inevitable. Do your best to stay safe, but be prepared for hard times. We just have to keep evolving. I’m not saying I’ve been good at it, but knowing what I know now, I’ll be better at it next time. And no, I’m not planning to fall again, but there’s always a next time when it comes to bad shit raining down.

Honestly, I still feel a little lost. I’m giving a lot of thought to how I spend my time. Who I spend it with. How I present myself to the world. I’m still happy to be retired, but I feel like I need to recalibrate. You know, when you’re in the car, and you’re using the map but you take a different route, and that woman’s voice says, “Recalibrating! Recalibrating!” That’s what I’m hearing.

In one baby step forward, I FINALLY donated the last of my professional wardrobe. I had some gorgeous suits and skirts that have been sitting there for eight years.

One day I just did it, and it was liberating. Skirts be gone.

As far as how I present myself to the world, I’ve never been one to seek the male gaze, but now that I’m over 70 and invisible, it’s easier than ever to avoid that whole scene. And yes, I realize rapists and serial killers will go after anyone, but the routine sexual harassment that comes from just being young and female – well, those days are over, and I couldn’t be happier.

Throughout my life, I’ve made an effort to look the part, to fit in. Well, for the most part anyway. But with all the mysogynist rhetoric coming from the right, and so many women falling in line to look younger and sexier, I feel zero interest in living up to anyone’s ideals of what I should look like. Or how I should behave.

Fun times ahead.

Dale and I were talking the other day, and I said, you know, I feel lucky I was never sexually assaulted. There were a few times when that was a real possibility. Isn’t that something? That we have to be grateful we weren’t raped? I realize that politically speaking, women are just as vicious, and certainly some of them are sexual predators, but what is up with all these men?????

On the lighter side, I thoroughly enjoyed The Fourth Consort by Edward Ashton. It’s a fun science fiction novel, not the Dystopian drama that these days seems too real to be read as entertainment. Ashton also wrote Mickey7, which I have not read but plan to. There’s a relatively recent movie based on the book called Mickey17.

I almost went to the theater to see Project Hail Mary, another science fiction story that isn’t so bleak, but I said almost. I loved the book and look forward to seeing the movie when it starts streaming.  

While I still can’t play golf, there’s a tournament next week in my women’s club, so I thought I’d go out and help. They will need cookies, so I’m going to get started on those this weekend. I like to make the decorated kind with royal icing, and those can take days to fully dry. But they’re fun to make and so cute and delicious.

I might go through the cookie cutters today and see what piques my interest. I have insects. Ladybug, dragonfly, etc. That sounds like spring does it not?

Baking saves lives

Manchego cheese muffins with Spanish chorizo and roasted red peppers. Oh, and sour cream.

For most of my life, I played by the rules. I served my country in uniform. I stayed informed, I worried about all things big and small and checked the boxes of what a “good citizen” is supposed to do.

I’m not saying a broken arm is a good thing, but since I fell down and went boom, I’ve had plenty of time to read a lot of wretched news and rethink pretty much everything. Whatever I thought I knew doesn’t seem to be true anymore.

This I do know — whatever it is going on out there leaves many of us feeling anxious, divided and powerless. We didn’t choose it, and we can’t control it.

While I’ve tried hard to disengage from all this noise in the past, I always felt guilty for not paying attention. It’s my duty! But it has occurred to me we can redefine what it means to be a good citizen. It does not mean we have to save the world one doomscroll at a time.

For me, it means being peaceful and kind. Mastering the art of the micro-joy. Helping my neighbors. Supporting my community. I think that does more for the world than being angry and miserable.

I mean, hell, yeah, I’m still going to vote, do what’s right, speak up, pay my bills and follow the law, but at age 70, I want to focus day-to-day on my happy retired life – the one filled with art, cooking, walking, chocolate and other simple pleasures … the life I started to write about eight years ago but got sidetracked by political drama.

This is my way of saying I’m returning to my roots. You will read less about politics and more about the experiences of a retired person observing life and just trying to be happy. The biggest news will come from my kitchen. Or maybe from my workshop in the garage.

It does feel as though the world is spinning out of control until you realize you aren’t in control anyway. I do not believe it’s a cop-out to disengage a bit. I do not believe it makes us bad citizens. Quite the opposite.

Those of us who choose happiness over hysteria are not part of the problem. Call me crazy, but I like to think we are actually part of the solution. Perhaps living simply and living well is resistance in its finest form. Proof good people can flourish, and peace is still possible.

As for the picture, I was baking yesterday. Baking saves lives. And yes, I think I’m getting my mojo back.

Have you seen my mojo?

I’ve been waiting to be inspired by something joyful before posting again, but there’s not a lot of joy in Mudville these days. We are both healing well and have forged an even stronger bond through all this personal trauma, but recovery is a slow uphill journey.

I lost my mojo. If you see it anywhere, let me know.

At first I thought, well, if I can’t say anything funny or happy just say nothing, but then I felt bad for giving you the silent treatment. I started to write a post explaining that I was not going to write for who knows how long, but it sounded so pathetic. So, here I am.

In addition to my broken arm, I got doomscroll wrist from reading the news on my phone. I had to quit doing that, and my wrist is much better. I bought a cool little tool that solves the problem. It’s also very handy for watching TV on my Kindle in bed.

It would be impossible to itemize the list of all things horrible going on out there, so I will instead share one observation. What Cesar Chavez has been accused of is vile, but I’ve been sort of surprised by how quickly he’s being erased.

Too bad that doesn’t apply to other men of ill repute.

For example, the president of the United States has actually been found guilty of sexual misconduct, and he gets a pass? Nobody is in a rush to scrub his criminal carcass off the windshield of life.

I think I’ve read one book since Dale fell, and then it was hard to hold a book after I broke my arm. I’m proud to say I just finished another Maisie Dobbs novel, and it felt great to read again. She’s a psychologist and investigator in England following the first world war.

Now that I’m back in the saddle, I will mosey on over to the library and stock up on new reading. Probably not tomorrow, though, as I am committed to making beef stew. I usually like to save that for a cold rainy day, but we seem to be experiencing early summer. I’m making it anyway. If my starter behaves, I will also bake a loaf of sourdough bread to go with.

I’m starting to call 2026 year of cheese. It’s like we can’t get enough. And at this point, I don’t care. My arm must have been a little shaky on this blurry picture, but I made turkey enchiladas from the breast we froze at Thanksgiving. I actually made two pans this size, so we got some nice freezer food.

Then, of course, El Rey de Pizza produced another spectacular monument to deliciousness. This one was topped with whole milk mozzarella, pepperoni, hot Italian sausage, pickled jalapeños and green olives.

But life is not all cheese. My neighbor gave me a huge bag of lemons from her tree. I juiced them yesterday along with fresh ginger – prepping the lemons was a little hard on the arm, but I was careful and Dale helped some. I added simple syrup and froze quite a few six-ounce bottles of tasty lemon-ginger juice.

So, even though my arm still has a ways to go, we are able to cook, and that’s a great thing. We’ve been pretty hard on the cookies, too, so there more work to be done.

Rebound

I visited the ortho yesterday for follow-up x-rays and a progress report. The bones are healing properly, and I don’t need surgery. He said to ditch the sling permanently and use my arm gently as much as possible but no lifting over five pounds. I start PT next week.

So, yay. What a relief. He even said I could putt and chip a little, but no more than that until I see him again in two months. I believe whisking, chopping, stirring, frying and sautéing count as gentle exercise! Sadly, so does cleaning the house, but I’m actually eager to take it on as I am able. Slow and gentle. I am not going to do anything stupid.

Although I am sickened by all things political, I feel optimistic here on the homefront. Next on the agenda – get back to writing about something other than broken bones. Walk more. Get back to reading, which I haven’t really done since this whole shitshow started. I’m referring to our personal shitshow not the national example of shitshows gone wild.

I’m thinking about food and what I can make. I was going through old cooking magazines looking for a specific pasta recipe we seem to have lost and stumbled onto a recipe for coconut cream pie. I definitely see that in my future.

Dale took out the last hunk of his homemade corned beef and is making corned beef hash tonight. We always top it with a fried egg. He made white bean and sausage soup the other day. I always love that with toasted French bread brushed with garlic-infused olive oil. Two batches of that went straight to the freezer.

Our freezer food is the best. It has been mostly depleted since the fiesta began with Dale’s accident in December, but we’re back on the job. We still have the whole breast from our Thanksgiving turkey, and it will probably end up as enchiladas. It’s always nice to have enchiladas in the queue.

I’ve got my starter, Gollum, cranking up for sourdough. Dale has been asking for my little homemade baguettes, so they need to go in the rotation. Yeast is so easy compared to sourdough. We make a charcuterie board with Italian cold cuts, some kind of runny cheese, nice, bitter arugula and some cornichons and just have that for dinner with the bread.

With regard to politics, I do call my senators and congressman, but both my senators are Democrats and so far don’t need prompting to do the right thing. The Republican is another story. Maybe he was dropped on his head when he was a baby.

It’s hard to find anything to say to him that might resonate, but I do call every couple of days to remind him I am opposed to him rubber stamping everything Trump says and does, and I want him to join with other members of congress to provide independent oversight.

That is, after all, what these yahoos were elected to do.

The boulevard of broken bones

Today marks five weeks since I tripped over a power cord and broke my arm. It was non-surgical, and I’ve been wearing the sling 24/7, except for showers, etc. In another 10 days I see the ortho for an assessment. If all goes well, he will say the bone is healing properly, I don’t need surgery and I can begin physical therapy.

I will not bore you with my boring itinerary here at the boulevard of broken bones, but just so you know. It’s boring. I can’t quite get into a book even though I have several in the queue. I’ve watched a little TV. I ate a box of See’s candy. I was losing weight, but I fixed that.

I’ve been able to walk a little every day. It’s awkward but manageable. I think about Lindsey Vonn and wonder how she passes the time. She’s probably good at this, too.

Dale, who fell off a ladder right before Christmas and broke his pelvis, is defying the odds. The PT is getting him stronger and stronger, and he hasn’t used the walker in a week. He’s up and down the stairs like an old pro, and I can only detect a slight limp at the end of the day when he’s tired.

It’s too early to even speculate on what we’ve learned throughout this ordeal. There will be takeaways for sure, but right now we’re just trying to get through it. I have calmed down a bunch and no longer feel like everything is an accident waiting to happen. I even opened the door to the room where I am sleeping, as I’ve sort of moved on from that existential fear of things that go bump in the night.

My goal is to move back into the master bedroom with Dale. He’s lost weight, too, so maybe he won’t snore as much. The main reason I’m not in there now is because I have a hard time finding a comfortable position, and I guess I’d rather not have an audience.

Oh, that’s right. Dale needs to sleep. That was my real reason – always thinking of others.

Everyone assumes the biggest thing I want is to get back to golf. And that’s true to some extent, but I just want to be able to do stuff around the house like I used to. I am amazed at what I can accomplish with one arm. Still, it’s not enough to chop vegetables or maintain the household.

We hired someone to come and help with stuff, but we got rid of her after one day. She drove both of us crazy. Dale agreed to step up, and it’s working well enough. Way better than having someone else in our space. If I squint, it looks OK.

Thankfully, he can cook. We’re back to pizza on Fridays. Last week’s was sausage and anchovies. I don’t know what’s on the docket for tomorrow. Yesterday we had spaghetti carbonara with a salad. Tonight is schnitzel with marinated cucumbers and home fries. I might need help cutting mine. That was the great thing about the See’s. Just pop them in, and they’re gone.

Aside from the candy, I have been eating well. Lots of protein. I actually like cottage cheese, which is high in protein, but I got tired of it pretty quickly. I prefer Greek yogurt, which is also an excellent source of protein. Tuna, sardines – both great. I cooked up a chicken breast just to make chicken salad.

I’ve squandered many an hour on the Epstein files. I want to see Trump held accountable for something in his miserable life of crime, and I thought it might be this, but who knows? The whole thing is bigger than my brain can absorb.

Although I said I don’t have any lessons to share just yet, I will say our accidents have given me an even greater appreciation for the simple things in life. And reading about all that awfulness with Epstein and his billionaire buddies only amplifies my desire to live simply, stay healthy, eat well and enjoy the time that has been given to us.

Everything is broken

That dang humerus hasn’t made me laugh yet. Fucker.

Tomorrow marks two weeks since I fell. I saw a doc today at the orthopedic practice, although he is a sports medicine doctor. I already have one of those, so I didn’t understand why I needed to go there. My regular guy finally called me and explained that even though the other dude is not an orthopedic surgeon, he’s affiliated with the ortho mothership, and it would be better for them to monitor this whole thing.

It took a lot to get that explanation, but I get it now.

The new guy said no surgery. Yay! The sling they gave me at the ER didn’t fit me properly, so I got a new one from them. He said this was not related to osteoporosis. Just a freak accident. That made me feel better. Not that freak accidents are fun and games, but it does not appear this is the beginning of long, slow decline.

In fact, he said this might have been way worse had I not been physically fit. I felt like all those exercises and weightlifting didn’t do a damn thing to save me, but he said quite the contrary.

That said, it’s not like I will be golfing anytime soon. I’m OK with it as long as this horrible phase eventually comes to an end.

So, the illustration. I am mixed-handed, meaning I write with my left hand but do everything else with my right. I now have to use my left hand for all of it, if you get my drift. That stupid little tool didn’t work. Let’s just say I solved the problem with latex gloves and Dude Wipes.

To borrow from another song, Bob Dylan this time, Everything is Broken. Since our accidents, a long-serving laundry room light went dark, the microwave stopped spinning, the oven won’t stop heating until it hits 5,000 degrees and shuts itself off before melting the planet, the battery in Dale’s car died, the DISH signal can’t connect with the hopper (meaning no TV) and we had to get a new food processor.

All of it fixed or in the process of being fixed, but damn. But then I think about my sister’s friend who tried to sooth a boo-boo with dry ice, and I’m grateful it wasn’t worse.

Dale and I have had some moments. I have two operating legs, so he thinks I am Wonder Woman. We have had some lively discussions about my current limitations. I said I’m healing from a fracture just like him, but I’m doing it backward and in high heels.

I still have to make all the calls and argue with the home health people. They have been trying to say he can only have PT once a week, and I had to use every bit of strength left to rectify that. I finally got to Oz this week, and I believe we are back to twice a week. He is doing fantastic, by the way.

He wants to cook more, but it’s still hard for both of us. After wheeling a spatchcocked chicken around the kitchen on his overbed table (the kind like you see in hospitals) I said this is too much. I cannot do this.

Now we are keeping it simple. Freezer food, homemade burritos, sandwiches. We are trying Indian takeout tonight.

All in all, we are doing OK. Now if ya’ll could do something about Trump, that would be great.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR ATTENTION TO THIS MATTER.