Out Stubborn Me ?

 

I've lived and grown in spite of the weather and golf balls beating my trunk.

Yes, I speak for the trees, but the same holds true for me.  I am aging but still swinging the golf club, slowly, and with a one arm follow-through but it didn't hold me back. I persevered through the pain when I played, or stacked dishes, or hung clothes in the closet. I pushed onward. My roots, like the trees, reach deep into the soil for strength.

Some people call that stubbornness. I prefer the more colorful descriptions like tenacity, grit, and perseverance. Maybe each word has a better definition depending on the circumstances. 

Recently, I learned a new cliche when talking to your husband or children, "Don't you out stubborn me."  I laughed when I heard and I still laugh inwardly every time I think of it. My husband has a bad knee or at least it is stiffening up more often, but did he get surgery when he needed it? No, we both practice stubbornness with each other.  Oops! there I said it. 

One day, while digging up Iris bulbs in the garden my right arm and shoulder bushwhacked me by delivering shooting pain from the shoulder to the tip of my fingers and down my right scapula. Two days of rest and Tylenol, I felt better. Not long after that I picked up a box of books, and immediately dropped the box to the floor. This time I felt the sting from my right shoulder to my butt! 

Suddenly, my mind realized that I had pushed myself to the limit and now might need surgery. My tenacity comes from the willingness to practice certain shots or skills, but now I could no long practice without pain. A couple of months passed and I played very little golf and when I did it hurt. After nights of worried sleep I called Ortho Central and scheduled a time to discuss surgery. 

Once the date was set for October, with Dr. James Bond, I sighed with relief and have played three more rounds of golf since then, thanks to Tylenol and shear perseverance. 

Safari 2026, Joan, Letty, Carol, Rose

Two week ago, I awoke with a burst of energy and drive to clean our house ceiling to floor. I dusted everything from the top down with my one good arm and then shelf by shelf dusted books and every touch of wood that came into reach. The brown maple shaded blinds are now washed and free of accumulated dust. Dozens of CD's are now back in their original packaging. Bathrooms clean and disinfected. That's the inside story. 

Downsizing potted plants

The outside tasks of digging and repotting flowers to come inside for winter is when my back started arguing and my daughter explained that "Pre-surgery Nesting" is very common when people learn that they will lose their mobility for several weeks or months due to surgery.  She went on to say, "Mom, you need to be rested for surgery, not exhausted." 

I've slowed the steam engine down and am writing only this one blog even though I have enough writing ideas to share weekly until next year. I'm sure I'll think of more stories while to sleep in the recliner. I am relaxing while reading Doris Kearns Goodwin's AN UNFINISHED LOVE STORY: A PERSONAL HISTORY OF THE 1960'S. 

Jack now walks with a slow heavy limp from his arthritic left knee, that has hurt off and on for at least five years.  Has he out stubborned me? Does that mean he wins? What a slow moving team we will be this holiday season.

Ironically, our story doesn't end here. Our Aussie-doodle, Murphy, has been to the veterinarian three times in the last two weeks. We thought he captured a hornet or large bumble bee in his mouth that caused the bottom right lip to swell out of proportion. A round of meds and laser treatment followed. It helped, however, the plot thickened when Murphy's back right foot swelled and turned reddish purple.  

Murphy's protective booty.

We  discovered that we had large patch
of "Goat Head" stickers in our backyard, that OUR AGE and cranking joints had kept us from noticing or removing. 

We did not put off his trips to the vet. We treated him right away, like we would our children. He has six more days of antibiotics to take and medicine to spray on his foot twice a day until the redness disappears.  The booty keeps him from licking off the medicine. 

We now have two limping bodies, and one who can't do anything with her right arm. If we took a video of how we interact, I am sure we could win "America's Funniest Home Video" of the year. 

For now, the house is clean, the laundry is done, Jack's man cave has been converted to a recovery room for me with flowers and colorful cloths on brown table tops, clean binds, new television that allows Jack (or me)  to listen through our hearing aides, and easy access to bathrooms and kitchen area. What more could an woman ask for? 

**I think I'll call the window washer next week. It looks a bit smoggy through the windows facing east and west.