Accident prone
Today I hit myself in the face with a knife (a butter knife, but even so — a KNIFE, people), burnt my thumb and two fingers on my right hand so badly that they’re swollen and blistering a bit, set a wooden spoon on fire (on actual flaming fire) and nearly poured a full pot of boiling water all over the floor (I caught that one). Yesterday I sliced my thumb open on a tin can and hit my head on the open dryer door. Not that many days ago, I accidentally sloshed almost boiling water into my face while I was trying to squeeze the air out of my hot water bottle.
I used to look at older women (like my lovely aunt) who were terribly deliberate about their movements. Carefully put down scissors before reaching for the tape, carefully swung their coats into the car before closing the door. I fling myself around the world like I’m on a tether. I leap into cars, I hurl knives into drawers, I toss bags on to benches, I fall into bed, I spring up again, I lunge, I hop, I dance, I move, always, as if something’s about to fall and I’m stretching to catch it.
Now I’m wondering if perhaps I should slow down a bit, watch where I’m putting my feet, take time to put my bag on properly. Only last week I put my shoulder out so badly (while sleeping) that I was in agony for a day and even now I can feel it twinge a bit. The following day I wrenched my neck just turning around.
I fear that this is the first step on my own slippery slide into dementia. And I also know that whether or not I surrender to the fear, I will carry that fear around with me from now on, as I watch my mum disappear. I fear that I’m getting old and that this is what getting old feels like. I fear that I could ward this all off by getting into better shape but I don’t really want to because I’m so very lazy. But I want to carry on hurtling through the world, not stepping politely. I want to carry on feeling like me.
And in the meantime, I think I should get more bandages and an aloe plant.
Not that you want to discount your mother’s illness but I do swear that as we get ‘older’ (and I don’t mean old old but just shifting of the hormones), we are clumsier and wierd things can happen. It could also simply mean the stars want you to slow down…period. I find as I inch closer to the big M that words come out of my mouth that have nothing to do with what I was saying and in my house my physical ‘nimrodness’ is legendary, and has been since I was in my early thirties (well there are those who would say it started much earlier). You know whether you have been preoccupied, stressed or just a little disconnected. It is a little more dangerous when you are handling knives. Be careful please.
You could always turn lemons into lemonade and take knife juggling lessons….
Oh dear, you sound just like me. Really. I’m still amazed I have all my digits, and my husband believes I will die in a ridiculous freak accident of my own causing. He’s probably right. So along with the bandages and the aloe plant you might want calendula cream on hand for burns. I speak from experience.
That’s quite a week you’ve had! I’m pretty reckless myself and it seems that my children have inherited it. A smacked her hand against a wall yesterday, just walking by it quickly, and I though for sure she had broken something. *sigh*
oh hey. sign me up. I wanna read your play. Kay? be sure to send it my way. Oh, and sweety, when it’s done I do expect you to have all the digits with which I presume you began. – B.