Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Diving For The Floor
I told Vikki North that I really have not felt like blogging much the past months, haven't even kept up with the blogs that I follow. It's not depression or laziness or lack of topics to write about. I've just been introspective. Thoughts about aging, which I long ago embraced, progress and changes that have happened throughout my journey and the like have been occupying a lot of my time.
I've been 'Touching The Rock' so to speak. This is what I say when someone is going through self-evaluation, i.e., "How far have I come? What have I accomplished here? Am I on the path I chose for myself and have my dreams been fruitful"? It usually comes several times in life where we sing that old Peggy Lee song, Is That All There Is? Or, as Jack Nicholson ratchets up the angst in his psychiatrist's office with the question from the title line of the movie, "Is this as good as it gets"?
It's about setting goals for what comes next, and yet not. It's feeling like you're hanging on the wall, a spider in a fugue state - same position, same place for weeks, not really moving, just kind of being there. Waiting.
I've been going over a check list. Maybe it started because I notice that I write check lists for everything these days to jog my somewhat iffy memory: What I'm going to do today; what projects need finished; a personal honey-do list. I make the lists because it feels good to cross them off as they've been attended to. And I also write them because I really need to or I forget something vital.
So. I've started noticing things more - how the wrinkles are accumulating on my face compared to the life mask in plaster made of a vibrant 27 year old me hanging near me. There are no squint marks, crepey lids or neck, no tiny fissures on lips for lipstick to creep into on that life sculpture. Just the firm and defined face of my youth.
Then there's the way my body betrays me by getting winded on a short stroll to the road trying to herd cats back to the house or the way I lumber and grunt going up a short flight of stairs to the accompaniment of creaking joints and shaky flesh. THIS body that used to dive out of airplanes, wrangle horses, jump motorcycles over mounds of dirt and rock, outrun the neighborhood boys, belly dance, love me up some men, work 14 hours - HARD and still want to go out dancing once the wood was stacked. THOSE kind of changes.
Another of my changes that brought home this past Monday at 2:30 a.m. is my waning lack of grace and agility. I literally forgot where I was getting out of the bed to pee. Forgot that I'd plugged in a small space heater to combat Florida's version of hard winter at 32 degrees and closelined myself at mid leg. Sent me flying ass end over tea kettle. I put my hands out to stop my face from kissing the floor, but my knee landed perfectly.
I knew something was not right because the pain was excruciating and immediate. I pick myself up, grab an ice bag and hope for the best. An hour and a half later watching the discoloration creeping around and outward from the point of impact and the growing size of things, I figured I better get myself to the ER and hobbled out to the car. Xrays, a shot in the leg, a Medieval leg brace, a script for drugz, and four hours later, I'm home. The orthopedic surgeon the ER folks referred me to took more xrays today, said I'd broken my knee cap, put me in another device to immobilize it, gave me stronger drugz, and sent me home for the swelling to go down.
The Percoset I took when I got home is giving me a strange disassociation with the offending knee. I've forgiven myself the clumsiness, realize that watching my face and body evolve from that killer physique and hottie face into this Who, is actually pretty neat and interesting. I'd give it a nine on the entertainment scale. Another side effect of the Percoset is finding the most incredible color scheme in my flesh.
Something made me take pictures of it when I first did the 3 pointer into the floor, yesterday, and again today. Martha Marshall is always taking pictures of rusty stuff, concrete, pipes and chipped paint to drive her art. I'm thinking of offering her my knee portraits to add to her inspiration folder.
I'm also thinking that the floor dive is a way for the Cosmic to tell me to continue the introspection since I won't be off partying anytime soon.
Posted by Unknown at 3:32 PM