Saturday, December 14, 2024

 Saturday, December 14, 2024

   I woke up with pain in my upper back and left arm.  Had I dislocated the shoulder replacement? I was warned that it was an option.  Pain in the upper back. And left arm. Have I damaged that reverse shoulder implant? I would have a complete range of motion with the regular shoulder replacement.  With the reverse shoulder replacement, the range of movement is limited.  I can only raise my arm three-quarters of the way.  I can't reach across my back, no less up my back.  All back-scratching has to be done with my right hand.  I can't even reach across the front of my body to scratch my right side.  Nonetheless, I have been exploring the outer limits of what's possible.  

  Besides working on an increased range of motion in my left shoulder, I'm working on straightening the hump on my upper back.  When I was young, those muscles were hard as rocks.  They're not soft and pliable now, but they're better.  My physical therapist warned me about changing my posture at this age.  Bone spurs developed in response to the posture I had. I could be unleashing unexpected problems.

   I used the MELT roller on my upper back.  It took a while, but I got a release. I heard, rather than felt, my neck pop.  Then, the spasm in my left arm and upper back released.

    I had been reluctant to get up and be active this morning. I woke up around 1:30 and dozed on and off for the rest of the night.  I should have gotten up at 4.  Lying in bed when I'm ready to get up is annihilating. When I was young, anxiety drove me.  I was compelled to stay in motion.  It wasn't that I didn't procrastinate, but I couldn't stand being physically still.  I often 'want' to do something and stop myself from following that impulse.  That's good if the impulse is harmful to me or others, but the impulse I'm repressing is to wash the kitchen floor, get that plant into the ground, repot a plant, post an ad, and make a video for YouTube.  What is this confusion about doing or not doing?.  Is it just me, afraid I won't do something well enough? I suffered from that badly when I was a kid. While I wonder if the need to repress the impulse to 'do something' is specifically mine, there are papers and YouTube videos on the subject. Indeed, I'm not alone.                   

    I started observing these phenomena as a human trait instead of just mine. obviously, we need to be able to repress inappropriate or dangerous impulses. But why do we repress impulses that are appropriate or productive? I recently heard a story about a famous performer who experienced fear before going on stage. When asked why, given their record of success, the performer said, "Yes. But will I be able to do it again?"  Each time we perform an act, we worry about whether we can do it again.  

   What are the consequences if we fail? Now, I don't fear failure every time I shower and get dressed. But then again, I don't worry about what I'm wearing. My goal is to cover my nakedness with a minimal nod to social convention.  I don't try to look 'good,' just not offensive.  The bar is low.  The performance goal is one element. the people who are our judges are another. If we are with someone accepting and not judgmental, we may feel comfortable unless we're afraid we will disappoint them.  But what's this about when we're the only judge? When we have no fear of others even knowing or caring if we wash our floors?  If I thought I might be praised for something, my self-consciousness and fearfulness would be worse.  This doesn't mean I am looking for praise; it's just that considering it a possibility messes with my perspective. 

  Looking at my procrastination from the perspective of a universal human impulse was helpful. I got some things done I'd been putting off.  I watered the 42 shrubs and asked Darby for advice on soil amendment before planting the large kua gardenia. I wondered about mixing the compost from my vegetable waste with the soil.  Darby asked how long it had been sitting. A week? A month?  I was confident it was no longer 'raw.'  I hadn't added any new food waste for over a year. It felt like soil. 

   I put the documentation I used to get my new driver's license back into its drawer in the library. There was too much in it.  I had six old passports, and Mike had three.  I had no need for them, but I wanted to keep the pictures.  I ripped them out of the passports. I have one from 1962, a photo from my college graduation, another from some unknown date, one from 1976 for my trip to Ireland with Mike, and another from our trip to Germany in 2001.   Mike had three old ones. The first was from 1976 for our trip. 

    Darby and I ran into English Mike on our evening walk. He had been back in town for several months. I learned he was wrestling with an irrigation system for his hostesshe called it an aggravation system. I asked him if he could give me a half-hour tutorial.