It’s been one of those days, and not in a good way. Or maybe so. For a long time I’ve been carrying around a lot of extra weight and those middle-aged, heavyset years have not been kind to my knees. For those dated TV watchers out there, I think I’ve acquired the gait of Chester, the limping deputy sheriff of TV’s Gunsmoke. So today at the rheumatologist’s was the day of reckoning. There we sat, me and the good doctor, staring at a scan of my left knee which is now in a bone-0n-bone situation. I said the f-word. Sweetly. And in a Southern accent. But still the f-word. He smiled, saying that’s often the reaction of someone who’s been told they will have to have knee replacement surgery. And, to add to my misery, I can’t have the surgery until I’ve lost a significant amount of weight. AND he suggested I start using a cane to walk to take pressure off the bad knee.
I have done many things to bring this on myself, so I’m not going to curse the world. But I did admit to the doctor that this was depressing news. No, he said. What would be depressing is if you couldn’t do anything about it.
So I limped down to the parking garage, clutching my sad knee scan, and waited for the attendant to deliver my car. I was teetering again, peering into the abyss of self pity alternating with self-recrimination and useless what-ifs. Then a teenaged boy and his father passed in front of me. The boy was smiling, laughing, talking to his father–while walking on two prosthetic legs. Ok, cosmos. I get it. Time to get to work and to live fully present, looking forward, not back. And with grace and hope.
Has the comos spoken to you lately?
By: Casual Fridays