It is
me! Today my right wrist finally had its
dressing removed. Dr. Iannarone
is very pleased with how well the skin graft "took" - personally,
I think it
looks pretty disgusting, with an outline of ugly black scab encircling
the graft. What I think looks icky, the
doctor considers beautiful
because it shows that the graft has sealed. Put like that, I guess it is
pretty beautiful too.
There is
still a gauze dressing on my wrist, but it is loose. Best of all, I finally
bid farewell to the sling. Now, I know
that the sling served a noble purpose,
but it is impossible to describe the effect not having the use of my right arm
did to my spirits.
It is no wonder that
when older people become incapacitated,
even in small ways, their spirits take a tumble, which can have a
domino effect. My incapacitation was
only temporary - think about all those
people who suffer strokes and heart attach and have permanent damage.
Take it
from one who has been there lo! these past few weeks - not having the
use of my
right arm through my entire sense of
physical and emotional equilibrium
oout of whack. It made me pondering all
the functions that diminish
as we grow older and older and older, of how it is easy for someone - like
yours truly - who is a flagging on vim and pep and vinegar to fall prey to a
sense of helplessness and hopelessness.
As I have
mentioned before, Elsa has this interesting trait - learned, she says, at
her sister's knee - of turning ordinary moments into celebrations. I wore my
nightgown and robe to the doctor's, so I could not go to Curds & Whey, as
I dearly would have loved to, for lunch after our appointment. Elsa suggested
she nip into Fresh Fields (Whole Foods) for some soup.
We had a
feast-ival for lunch - Triple
Squash Soup and a maple walnut scone that she picked up for me this morning
at a marvelous cafe she stops into on the way to work. (Loopy girl went to
work from 7:30 - 10:00, before heading home to take me to my appointment.)
What a combination - the two flavors and
textures perfectly complemented
each other. Sitting there eating a
marvelous soup set off by a perfectly
matched scone seemed be right out of one of the Redwall books;
Elsa often reads me excerpts regarding their feast days.
If you
have not read any of Brian Jacques’ stories about Redwall
Abbey, you should, if only for the marvelous descriptions of food that are
always a feature of the stories. There
are days, like today, that I think I
could eat even a Redwall hare (famous for their prodigious appetites) under the table!
This lady
is so lucky to be just where she is at this point in time. It is fun
living with these kids. They always have
some plan or another up their sleeves. Since it is tough going for them to get out
without worrying about me, they
decided they wanted to do something special over the weekend. On Saturday
night, we blew the wad and got fish & chips and a big tub of meaty ribs from a favorite place in Langhorne. It is a bit of a trek, but oh, the combination of delicious batter-fried fish, golden
brown french fries, and the best ribs I have eaten since December 1976, at the
Rusty Scupper in Head House Square.
I went along as an extra adult when Elsa
took part of her 6th grade down to Philadelphia at Christmas. I will never forget watching in admiring amazement as little Amanda Goerwitz ate all the rest of us under the
table, then went onto have a great gloppy sundae for dessert and polished that off,
too.
But I digress. Back to the spare ribs. I can smell and taste them as I
write, the sweet tang of the marinade and lots of dropping-off-the-bone
meat.
I think I
am going to want a midnight nibbling if I keep up these thought of food. Instead, am closing down this gastronomic
discussion and heading up to bed.
Bon appetite!
Aunt Kay
No comments:
Post a Comment