Foresight

I’m calling it foresight, but really it was just dumb luck that we were prepared in an important way for my hip replacement surgery and for aging in general.

Several years ago Dennis and I decided to go to the Lawrence Home Show, where building contractors and suppliers of plumbing, flooring, and other materials related to the home set up information booths about their products and services.  Our being there was an odd choice, because we had no home improvement project in mind.

Wandering down an aisle we came upon a remodeling contractor’s booth hawking remodeling for handicapped accessibility. A personable fellow stopped us and asked if our bathroom was handicapped accessible. Heck, no, it wasn’t, we answered.

Our two-bathroom house had a bathtub on the second floor and a monstrous tub-shower on the first. The tub-shower was one gigantic piece of molded plastic. Both Dennis and I prefer showers and climbed into the tub-shower every day. I often banged my shin climbing in and despised the plastic-coated shelf rack suspended from the fixed shower head. 

In a twinkling we were making an appointment for the bathroom designer to look at our bathroom and create a plan. The upshot is that the bathroom was gutted and rebuilt. The door frame was even enlarged to accommodate a wheelchair. For both Dennis and me, though, the crowning glory was the new walk-in shower, complete with seat, two grab bars, and a European-style removable shower head.

We’ve enjoyed this shower for years now, but have never really needed its accoutrements until my hip replacement surgery two-and-a-half weeks ago. Without this shower I would have had to be content with basin baths for months to come.

After surgery I was required to use a walker to get around, putting no more than 25 percent of my weight on the new hip. Thanks to bathroom remodeling, I could get my walker right to the shower door, take hold of the grab bar, and sit on the bench. The removable shower head made it possible to precisely bathe without injuring my hip.

Now that I’m walking without assistance I can stand in the shower again, but the grab bars are essential for getting in and out.

I’m thankful for our “foresight;” it helps make it possible for us to stay in our beloved home as we age.

Copyright 2014 by Shirley Domer

What If?

One great thing about convalescence is that I have plenty of time to read and think. Sometimes this leads to a mental break-through, a putting-things-together moment, a flash of insight.

It started when my pal Linda sent me a link to “Grammar, Identity, and the Dark Side of the Subjunctive.”* Watching this TEDx video got me thinking about the difference between optimist and pessimism.

The subjunctive is used to express unreality in its various forms ­ our wishes, hopes, judgments, and much more. It expresses our “if only” and our “what if?” If only often looks to the past: “If only I hadn’t developed rheumatoid arthritis, I would be a different woman today.”  That’s the dark side of the subjunctive. What if, on the other hand, often ponders questions about the future, such as“Would strawberries thrive if we planted them in the stock tank?”

Trying to envision life without rheumatoid arthritis would be not only nonproductive, but also embittering, and I refuse to go there. I’m sticking with reality and possibilities, such as picking strawberries without bending to the ground.

In the meantime, my hip is healing well and I’m getting better every day. So, if your hip is worn out and causing misery, what if you get a hip replacement? It is much easier than you may fear.

*Sorry, I can't seem to create a viable link to this presentation, but it's easy to find on YouTube.