Human frailty

Frailty.  I never saw myself as fragile in any sense of the word.  This year, however, I seem to have recovered from a lateral meniscus cartilage tear in my left knee accompanied by a partial tear to my Achilles tendon.  I have had two or three weeks pretty much out of action with a chest infection, and recently I've had a diagnosis of Labyrinthitis.

It's been a hard decade for injuries.  It all seemed to start with IT Band damage in 2007 which still flares up from time to time, but there's also been a shoulder injury, a diagnosis of TMJ, and an episode of Trigeminal nerve disorder in recent years.  Before that, the only things which ever got damaged were broken little fingers and a broken nose. 

I'm not a patient patient.  I always want to get up and do things before I possibly should.  I'll doggedly push myself unless given clear warnings about bad consequences if I over do it.  I was really really well behaved and looking to long term future when I tore the cartilage.  Followed physio instruction to the absolute letter and made a full recovery. 

This time, though with the lovely toppling Labyrinthitis I have got it into my head that my brain simply needs to recalibrate, and the best way of doing that is to go out there and behave normally. Walk.  That kind of thing.  Which is what I did today, meandered with the gait of a squiffy drunkard along the footpaths going from home.  Pondered as I did so about how thankfully different I am to my dad.  As soon as anything went wrong with Dad he gave up.  I don't exaggerate.  His attitude was to think about what he couldn't do, not what he could do.  If he thought that in the future something would no longer be possible he simply stopped.  Then and there, said if I can't do that in the future there's no point doing it now.  He was as stubborn as I am.  But me, I like to at least try. 

So today's walk, I bimbled along, thinking about the simple experience of walking, the feeling of loss of focus, the odd sensations brought about by the lack of balance combined with my naturally bobbing gait as I walk.  And I thought, you know what, this is not so bad.  If this is the way walking is to be for the next few days or weeks I can cope with this.  If walking were always like this, would that be a game stopper?  No, I don't think it would be.  Imagine if I knew no different, if walking had always been this way, would I be concerned.  No, I'd have adapted, and that's what I can do now, accept, relax, adapt.  Could I climb Ben Nevis like this; I don't know but maybe.  Get in.