Last Thursday was it—at the doctor’s—I told the medical person that sometimes when I flex my hand little popping noises (smaller versions of the ones that come out of my knee) come out of it and sometimes those noises are accompanied by twinges of pain and when during one of those times I squeezed one of my finger joints it was sore—and she said, arthritis, and if she didn’t shrug, she might as well have…
Because, well you, arthritis is just one of those things that comes along with the aging process and there isn’t a whole lot one can do about it except hope that it doesn’t get worse or so bad that you are in pain all the time and your movements become restricted.
Brother Steve and I compared notes on aches and pains over the phone recently. He has bad things going on with his left knee and I didn’t know it but he also has some pretty serious stuff going on with his right shoulder probably from carrying that mail sack all those years (or maybe it was his left shoulder). I too have some deep shoulder pain probably from too much basketball and possibly also from that time a number of years back when I swam a mile a day for something like a 100 days in a row. That was stupid.
Earlier this week I carried some groceries from the car into the house and later that day both of my knees became swollen. Perhaps I carried too much weight or maybe I twisted something while carrying the groceries. This is strange new territory where you have to worry about carrying too many groceries or wondering if that pain in your fingers when you reach for the toothbrush is going to get worse.
I can’t find much consolation at the moment and probably I am letting these things get to me a bit too much. But how exactly does one contemplate the prospect of inevitable decline with equanimity?