It’s the white hair and limp, right?
As I was meandering (a more genteel description for limping) toward the grocery store exit, it was clear that the young woman in front of me was anxiously angling to get that door open for this poor ‘ol thing. (Oh, heavens, I might topple over!) Very thoughtful, but she wasn’t the first person today to offer such kindness. Not at all. I very amicably acceded to her generosity. Yep, those very much-resisted 6th grade Southern cotillion lessons on graciousness really did pay off. (Somewhere, my mother is saying “I told you so!” She’s entitled.)
Ah, but let’s backtrack a bit. I’m limping through some errands today because, well, my right leg appears to be experiencing a rebellious phase. Very rebellious. On top of the total RIGHT knee-replacement several months ago, I’ve somehow been blessed with a trenchant case of tendinitis in my RIGHT foot. I don’t mean to be dim, but if the universe is sending me a specific message regarding my ongoing lameness, I haven’t gotten it yet. Hello?
So I continued to slowly move forward with my errands, addressing my final due diligence at Walmart. Heading toward the exit, the Walmart, post-purchase, receipts checker saw me limping toward her and said, “No, dear, you’re fine. Just go right on out.”
Oh, my, that was it for this lil ol’ limping lady! I’d had enough! So well intended, but the concern and caring by others had taken on a suffocating air for my remaining aliveness (of which there is a considerable amount.)
And, you know what? I was the problem - yep, me - not those caring others! Truly. I’m so glad people care. For the sake of still experiencing my own, gnarly, felt independence, I really needed something of a buffer between me and the assumption I was just going to topple right over! (I wasn’t!)
So, in response to the Walmart receipts checker giving me an easy bye, out popped “I bet it’s my white hair and the limp, right?” followed by a smile. Couldn’t resist saying it. Too good to pass up. Sharing this wink and nod to my current physical challenge re-asserted my independence (mainly for me.) Hey, that woman is sharp and funny, even if she looks like she might tilt over! You got it?! Well, I GOT it and suddenly felt reinvigorated, saucy, and damn-well intellectually independent.
After my comment, the receipts checker stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing. And continued laughing. Me, too! It was an unexpected moment of shared joy and mutual aliveness.
My current locomotion challenges are morphing into a door-opener for laughter, a merriment that is essential to my human existence as is water (and, of course, my fave, Diet Dr. Pepper.) Hey, universe, if you’re sending me a specific message regarding my right leg’s mobility issues, it is, as of yet, unreceived. In the interim, however, my sense of humor is going to float my boat through this patch of unknowing. I’ll juice this situation for its inherent light. My physical vulnerability (also part and parcel of my humanity) can be a vibrant source of shared laughter and my expressed independence. Hoping people on the other end of my, um, lame interactions can also join me in laughter. I suspect all of us would be the better for it.
Hi Jan,
I was hobbling along in my grocery store about two months after my “accidental” hip surgery (be a year next month) and holding onto a large cart toting my cane in the basket part. When I came to a product that was not only on the bottom shelf but pushed way back and the only one left, try as I might, I could not reach it. No way I could get down on a knee.
A woman, probably a few years my elder, but also sporting silver hair matching my own, asked if I needed help. She deftly swooped down on a bended knee and grabbed the item for me. After thanking her profusely, I turned away and cried.
I cried because someone had shown me compassion. I wasn’t used to that. I had always been the one to jump in and help someone within eyesight who looked like they were struggling. I was always the tall one to get the items from a top shelf or down on hands and knees to retrieve an item way back on a bottom shelf. I was the first to hold open a door. And I was a caregiver for my dad for the last 8 years of his life.
My fierce independence was taking a hit and I didn’t much like it.
Today, I do appreciate when the bagger asks me if there is a weight limit I want in the shopping bags I always bring. And I continue to thank them for bagging. (This started for me during covid).
I can look back at myself at that time with a bit of compassion and yes, laughter at times, for what I went through, even though at the time I felt I was never going to heal. I now joke with ”Lucy” (aka Lucille Ball--name of my new hip) to keep up or slow down. She’s actually stronger than “Peg” my left shorter leg.
I still have some pity party days, but I get over myself fairly quickly and try to look for the joy and laughter in things even if its at my own expense, like you did leaving the store that day.
If we can’t laugh at ourselves, we may as well pack it in!
Thanks for the chuckles and helping with my self-reflection.
I’m setting intentions your foot and knee continues to improve. 🤗🙏🏻❤️