Elderlyberry W(h)ine
“Drunk all the time, feeling fine on elderberry wine.”
— Elton John
Recently I had a sip of helplessness. Not my drink of choice.
I wasn’t hiking a trail. I wasn’t riding my bike. I wasn’t walking a dog.
I was doing light yard work. I stepped back, off a two inch ledge in my yard. The bone snapped. I heard it loud and clear. I felt it break. It happened in an instant without warning. I was down.
I didn’t know what to do. I’m the strong, healthy one. I walk away from bike wrecks, and trail mishaps, and dog missteps.
I decided I would rather chop my foot off than go to a hospital, so I drove myself to Urgent Care where the x-ray confirmed a fracture. Six weeks of limping around. No walking, hiking, biking, or anything else I do to stay sane in the time of COVID.
Since the unlucky break, I hobble. To work. Through grocery stores. To gasoline stations. But mostly I have stayed home to avoid further injury. And of course, there is that pandemic thing happening. A broken bone was the straw that broke my camel’s back.
I don’t recognize myself. I cannot reconcile the true me with this elderly woman who shuffles a gigantic medical device boot on my right foot, juggles crutches, whines through a face mask, fogs up spectacles … and orders a grumpy old poodle not to bite the hand that feeds it.
I painted the scene for my sister over the phone. A little sympathy, please.
Her only question was, “What’s up with the poodle?”
“His name is Leo. He’s a foster dog. I took him in over winter break. He bites. No one will adopt him and for now I seem to be stuck with him.”
Leo is much like the men I have dated over the years. He is grouchy. He takes up space on my couch. However, Leo is house trained. They were not.
Getting myself to and from work is exhausting. Crutches, computers, and carryon luggage with wheels requires several trips to load and unload from the car. All of this is for teaching special ed. That is another blog too painful to write.
A colleague suggested I use a backpack instead of a lunchbox, computer bag and purse while using crutches.
Brilliant!
Now I focus on every move. Slow and steady.
I must remove the cumbersome air cast and lace up my hiking boot real tight so I can drive. I stow the evidence of injury in the back seat. Some people think driving with a broken bone is against the law.
I could file an application to work from home but I’m afraid I wouldn’t work. I would sleep all day, eat junk food, or watch “The Queen’s Gambit” or maybe the much anticipated newly released season 12 of “Heartland”. This lack of motivation planted itself early on during lockdown. But now, it’s become my new abnormal.
I’m fascinated by the undaunted people who continue to travel, write new music or literature, perform on TikTok, and improve their cooking skills at home. The people who have reinvented themselves by making COVIDade out of COVIDS.
“I wonder if I’ll ever travel again.” I mused to a friend. “because right now, getting a glass of wine to the coffee table is a monumental task.”
This will pass. I know it will.
In the meantime, I have become aware of areas in my life that could use a little tweak.
A couple of weeks ago I shopped at Costco — a store that is not the place to go when on a tight schedule. Everyone there moves in slow motion. Shoppers stop in the middle of the aisle to answer their phones and have conversations. Full carts, giant containers — even kids move more slowly in that Big Box store. Don’t they know I’m in a hurry!?
Damn it! Now I’ve become that slo-mo Costco shopper.
Impatience is not a virtue!
People have stepped up to help. I didn’t ask and I didn’t expect it. Friends, and friends of friends, have brought lovely meals. A neighbor gifted a Bota Box of Malbec. She parked it on the coffee table.
Grateful!
Neighbors also take turns to walk Leo early in the morning, because I can’t. They bribe him with peanut butter flavored dog biscuits so he won’t bite them. He has become less afraid and more social.
Adoptable?
My daughter from out of town ordered groceries to be delivered to me for the next several weeks.
Why didn’t I think of that?
I have found everyone to be kind. Doors open, people motion me to the front of the line, the gas station clerk filled my tank, and strangers ask what they can do to help. I think I’ll hold on to the hideous boot and the crutches to use in the future when I need props for a little kindness.
Kindness wins!
Actually, I have become attached to Leo since he has stopped snarling at me. He’s a living breathing soul with a mop of grey curls, a crooked smile, and three teeth. Much like the men who have camped on my couch.
Leo’s fine with elderlyberry whine. Unlike the previously mentioned couch surfers, he’s a really good listener.
