The pain in my tush seems to be getting worse. It particularly hurts as I roll into bed from a sitting position. I'm getting worried. The only good note is that my hand, which I also hurt when I fell, also hurts more. It may be part of the healing process, but it has been six days now. That had to be some wallop of a bruise.
Being concerned that there might have been a break, I decided I would use a sure-fire medical diagnostic procedure I learned to determine if there is a broken bone- hold a vibrating object in the area of the bone. An electronic massager would work. I don't have one, or at least I have no idea where it is. I use the back of my electric toothbrush, not the brush side. Good news! Nothing hurt. It even felt good. The toothbrush was dunked in alcohol shortly after, just to be on the safe side.
On my walk, I thought to be cautious and not go too far. In the past, if my body gave out, I could get a ride home. Not now. No one is going to pick someone up and violate the social distancing rule. I was somewhat more aware of that area of my body, but it was doable. I made it both up and down the hill without incident. It's sitting that is getting worse.
Dorothy called. She told me that this confinement may extend through August. She didn't know if she could handle that. She said she feels worse being confined during the summer than in the winter. Air conditioning is a must in Central Jersey; it is very humid. We also talked about the information you can get from the internet. I had asked August if he knew what to do with extra, unneeded UBS cords. I finally looked it up. Give them to Goodwill. People come to buy them when they lose theirs and, and some people strip them for their copper. A light bulb went off in Dorothy's head. She could use the wire in the face masks she's making.
Then I took a nap. I have no idea why I am so tired. I took a long nap yesterday, went to bed at a reasonable hour, and then couldn't sleep. I stayed up to finish Louise Penny's "A Better Man." I didn't enjoy this book as much as I had the others. I figured out very early that the man they were sure did it didn't. They had identified him too soon; it was obviously a red herring. I can't remember if I suspected the real murderer, but it wasn't a total surprise. I did fall asleep and then got up at 6 am.
I slept most of the day. I was exhausted. I have no reason to be so; this is a concern. It could be depression, but it doesn't feel that way. It could be that I'm in an intense healing phase from the fall, or it could be that I'm fighting off something impressive. We'll see, won't we?
I did manage to update the online blog and post two entries for the emailed log. I also moved a small box with some stuff for Habitat for Humanity from the kitchen to the spot in the living room where I am storing stuff to go.
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Musings:
While Mike was in the hospital, knocked out with painkillers and kept alive by machines, some people visited him expressing sadness at his loss of dignity. I protested. As far as I was concerned, there was no condition Mike could be in that would cause him to lose his dignity.
Interestingly, these people were heavily invested in the Catholic Church. Do they believe that Christ lost his dignity on the cross? It begs the question: what makes for dignity?
I think the people who feel that we have dignity when we have control, at least over our body functions. Mike had lost all control over his body.
Victor Frankel maintained his dignity in the concentration camps by keeping his humanity despite his guards' efforts to extinguish it. How did he do that? He did it by maintaining his concern for others. Our ability to care for others makes us worthy members of a community. For some, that is the definition of dignity.
I know that Mike always maintained his concern for me. He struggled to live even when he didn't want to. When he heard his son and his wife talking, saying how well that I was doing, he was willing to surrender to the inevitable. If caring for others is a definition of dignity, Mike never lost his.
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