Little things

My world is getting smaller, and it’s not just because of Covid. I don’t have the agility and stamina anymore for hiking and exploring, and I don’t have the energy and patience for a lot of socializing. I guess it’s just part of aging. So I spend most of my time doing things at home. But I’m not bored, because aging is constantly inserting new challenges into my daily life.

Dropping something on the floor becomes a big issue if I’m having a bad spinal stenosis day; I can’t bend over to pick it up. My arthritic hands can’t open jars. When a light bulb burns out on a ceiling fixture, or a smoke alarm battery dies, I can no longer perch on the stepladder and reach up to the ceiling to unscrew the fixture or drill holes for the new alarm; I don’t have the balance. Whenever these things happen and panic starts to set in, I try to figure out some new way of doing them. If I can’t think of anything, I consult with Professor Google. Now I own a reacher so I can pick things off the floor without bending over. I use rubber dishwashing gloves to open jars. I put up my smoke alarm with heavy-duty Velcro, so I don’t have to drill holes in the ceiling. And I’m looking around for a new, senior-friendly stepladder.

I feel ridiculously pleased when I manage to come up with workarounds for these little things. Look Maw, I can do it myself! But mostly what I feel is relief. I’ve overcome the obstacle, jumped through the hoop. I can put that problem behind me and move on. I’m still in charge of my life – for now.