Taking Care

I’ve been taking the most care of how I place my feet, how I walk. I have every risk factor you can name for falling, and walking grows harder and harder. Breaking a hip in a fall isn’t how I want to spend my dotage. But a cane might be welcome in my dotage.

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “taking care.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

6 thoughts on “Taking Care”

  1. Is it that I’ve been taking the best care of myself since I quit drinking, or is it that I just never remembered to take any care of myself when I was drinking? I mean, in the three years since I got sober, I’ve lost weight, I ended a toxic relationship with an abusive partner, I went into therapy for the depression & PTSD that I’d most likely been suffering with since age 10 (when I was sexually abused by a family member), I went for a complete physical, I went to an eye doctor (because the print in the morning paper was too goddamned small), found that I had a condition of the corneas that required surgery, had the surgery (two of them, one surgery for each cornea), I meditate, I don’t let anger or stress get the better of me.

  2. Taking care of my gentle soul. The one that I’ve dropped to break, the one that I’ve left to rot and the one thing in life that is truly mine. I now let myself love, cherish and learn who I am. It is not easy, I need to hold on.

  3. First a couple of personal responses: Natalie, I have blessed with terrific relationships w/all docs I’ve somehow assembled in octageniarian years. When I asked the geriatrician, who knows the health of this body better than the rest, what might take me her response was “A fall is a life-changer.” At that point was using a trekking stick rather than a cane due to leg neuropathy/imbalance; The following year these two plus one of the other docs added urged, “Consider a walker.” I did and now I have gained in confidence, balance. Of course there’s inconvenience of placement in the car, restaurants, elsewhere. As you said though, I don’t want to spend my dotage other than independent for as long as possible.

    To the younger ones: “More power to you. I reach out to you with soul energies.”

  4. Today a confluence is taking place. First, a reflection book proposed thinking about the life of the Swede Raul Wallenberg, “righteous Gentile” during WWII. As I write, Pope Francis speaks to the entire U.S.A. Congress. Third, mentally I’m preparing weekly blog on the theme “CHANGE IS THE NEW NORMAL” for Saturday. Because of your proposed topic, “on taking care” I am now torn between two topics: that one and “thinking different. (bow to Steve Jobs)” Perhaps there is a way to blend the two in solidarity.

  5. I try to take care, recently i have given less thought to my skin and have been outdoors a lot more only to notice a spot that won’t go away i have to see the Doctor about. Some times we are too busy to take the care we should do.

  6. Taking care….oh yes. As we hiked, my husband would call me agile as a mountain goat ascending the mountain quickly and with grace…ahead of him saying, “what’s taking you so long?” Now, post breast cancer chemo … not much is said about the after effect that can impact your life so devastatingly. It’s called CIblankN…..aaaah, shit. chemo induced something neuropathy. Those acronyms always drive me mad. I already had part of my left foot amputated due to a giant cell tumor and I couldn’t differentiate at the beginning the impact of the chemo. My God! I’ve been to so many physicians and no one has actually diagnosed me with the CIN whatever acronym. No: I had to do it through an awful lot of research online. How does it feel? Both of my feet tingle…they feel numb. Now how do you explain the feeling of tingling and numbness together? It’s crazy. It’s mind-boggling. I used to be a dancer, a gazelle, leaping around, climbing up on the roof to take care of some odd little thing like checking a roof shingle/painting. Fearless. Now I walk painfully, cautiously, incredibly slowly. This has had such a horrific impact on my life that I can’t even express it. I wake up in the morning and stand and my feet ache like mad. Sometimes, my toes curl up painfully when I try to stand. I love getting my feet massaged. I’d sell my soul to have my old feet back. Where is that gazelle? Where is that mountain goat? Now I’m so afraid I don’t even dare get into our canoe to have a little float in case something happens. What do I do when my feet don’t behave? I can’t rely on them. Take care. It can happen to you. Learn to love what you have when your body is in good health. It could be gone sooner than you can imagine.

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