I love waking up to my view.
Up until about yesterday, I’ve been spending a lot of time in bed. I fell and hurt my knee (long story I won’t bore any of us with again) and so have been forced to keep my leg elevated, my nightstand crowded with glasses of water, prescription bottles and other detritus that comes of a lingering injury that must be coddled.
My two stations of inactivity were the sofa (for movie watching) and the bed (for reading and pouting).
It’s been quite a hardship not being able to walk around. Which is an obvious and banal statement. But like all setbacks or bad twists of fate, it’s been a time of reflection, especially when being confronted with my images. My mind couldn’t help leaping to a premature sadness for a future day when I won’t be able to see the world, even these tiny snippets of it that I treasure. I worried about the day when I physically won’t be able to take photos anymore. Is there a time in one’s life when one realizes, yes, that is the last time I’ll ever do such-and-such a thing in my life? A last movie watched, a meal enjoyed, a dance, a kiss, sex.
I remembered the woman on Muni a few weeks ago. The one in the wheelchair with the prosthetic leg (a shiny pink plastic foot barely visible in a satin ballet slipper) and my internal impatient dialogue with the bus driver because he couldn’t get the wheelchair ramp to lower and let the woman board and how he was going to make meeee late. How would I take the photos I get from a wheelchair? Strap my bag across the back of the chair? My alleys and stairs and secret places would all be unreachable territory. Foreign lands.
I shudder to think about how I will age. This little stint with the knee has shown me that I won’t be aging gracefully, one part resignation mixed with a dose of good humor. The possibility of me being a bitter, angry and sad old lady are quite high, given my representative feelings over the past few weeks. I can’t see myself settling into a quiet, bemused state of remember when?
My view helps. I adore my images, thinking about where I took them, and when I first loved them. What camera I used. My view also makes me impatient, but like the itch of my skin as the bruises transform and shift locations and colors, as the swelling on my knee lessens from the size of a small orange to a lump the size of a strawberry, I know the grumpy impatience is another part of me getting back to normal.
17 Comments
The musing on “lasts” resonated with me. That’s a nice post; thanks for sharing your thoughts with us.
And I’m glad to hear you are on the mend.
Julie, I went through the same thing when I had my various surgery. I was confined to the couch, which gave me too much time to reflect and ponder. I hope you and your knee get well soon.
Also, we still need to do our movie night!
What a beautiful wall! It is interesting to hear other peoples thoughts on aging and what they think will come of them, particularly after a certain incident. I’m sorry to hear about your injury and hope you recover gracefully.
such an excellent view from your bed! i particularly love the red chair on the stairs. is it linked anywhere online?
i hope your knee is better soon and you are back to climbing whatever you heart desires that you climb!
I always get that “lasts” thing going through my head when I am on vacation. I end up lying to myself. I pretend this isn’t my last dip in the warm azure waters telling myself that I’ll do it one more time this afternoon. But then I don’t. I pretend this is not the last run down the slope and that I am just taking a break for a drink. But then I never take the chair lift back up again. So I think when my end nears, I’ll guess I will just keep on denying it.
I love that wall
Nice. I love walls that talk.
Love this post…and it gave me a lot to think about (and to be grateful for). I’m so glad you’re on the mend, and I’m so glad you have a lovely view to keep you company while you recover.
So sorry to hear of your injury ;-(
But stuff like that happens for a reason, sweetie. Always when we need to be introspective.
I’m sorry to hear you hurt your knee
But it’s good to get some rest…remember when you were telling me how I needed to take it easy after my accident? I should have listened more to you and everyone else at that point, but I had become restless.
It surely is a wake-up call when you start to picture your “lasts” in life. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, too. It’s morbid to think about but it helps with perspective.
Hope to see you sometime. My schedule is pretty free these days. Take care!
I can understand what you’re passing through.
My sister badly broke her right leg last December.
She spent the next three months in bed, and only recently began to do some physiotherapy. Meanwhile, I am her only family.
I hope you’ll overcome your injury, Julie.
The point of my comment is that her view from the bed is, in my view, similar to yours. Andreea’s wall is mild blue instead.
that is one lovely view
Join the club, sister. Sucks for you you’re going through this shit, sucks they didn’t teach us in school when we were kids that EVERYONE is going to go through this shit. Sucks always being in pain, sucks worst of all when you have to cancel that tango date because your knee/foot/back are still FUCKED UP. Sucks getting out of bed at age 47 and going, “Holy shit, I can barely move, I’m gonna need someone to bath me and wipe me by the time I’m 58.”
Kitty and I are going to put a lot of mental effort in helping you heal, so we hope that speeds things up a bit. You must be going bonkers not being able to get out and photograph much.
I trust your Boy is being a good servant in your time of need.
And ouch — it must hurt like hell. Life just isn’t fair. Godspeed with your recovery.
And by the way, I LOVE the way you did the rearrangement of your Femmephotographie site — really cool music too…
I have wondered about this also and decided even in the nursing home I can take pictures and wheel the chair out into the garden, sit quietly and wait for the butterflies and birds.
Thank you all, for the wisdom and compassion. It’s surprising to me how much I think I empathize with others and then it really isn’t until the shoe is on the other foot that it finally sinks in how it feels.
I wish (hope, will try) to keep this awareness in mind for the future. But I do appreciate your kindness and messages here.
You know what they say…if you have your health. I have long-lived mom and grandparents (they just passed at near 100) and lately I’ve been thinking of how long I can manage the 2 flights of stairs in my townhouse…be nice to think of 30 years.