To The Pain

I keep hearing that phrase in my head, from The Princess Bride. To the pain. Two months in, and my knee is still killing me. I’ve had an X-ray and am waiting on an MRI. My self internet diagnosis is a torn meniscus. I’m doing all the things. Rest. Rehab. Ice. Heat. Epsom salt baths. Ointments. Knee braces. Massage. But the body sometimes has a mind of its own and heals on its own time.

Meanwhile, I’m grouchy. But also grateful it’s not worse. There are so many people in so much more pain than me, so I have no right to complain.

I am not complaining.

Just sharing. Two of my daughters and my son-in-law are here for two more days, so I am delegating as much as I can to them. There is a benefit to all of us when I do that, because they learn to do things. Maya, my city child, has been weeding my vegetable garden and bringing in the random finds. Tony is helping with all the heavy lifting. Maya and Tony both learned what poison ivy looks like (Maya learned the hard way). Lucia is helping with the cooking and dishes. Well, they are all helping with everything, including taking out the trash and compost.

I asked my youngest granddaughter last night what she wanted to learn (she’s already naturally helpful). And then I realized I could read her the latest Mrs. Peanuckle Space Alphabet book. We laughed when we got to E is for Eclipse, which just happened to be on the very day of a full solar eclipse in the UK, where her other grandparents live.

Meanwhile, the garden doesn’t wait for my knee to get better. I made vegetable soup from my garlic, Row 7 Center Cut Squash, tomatoes, and Navajo beans, a flat climbing bean I found at the Heirloom Market in Connecticut, which is a regular road trip stop. By the way, Navajo is a derogatory term given by missionaries. The proper name for the tribe from New Mexico is Diné. Most importantly, I froze multiple jars of the soup in single-serving size so that when the cold weather comes, I have a quick taste of summertime joy to nourish me. Hopefully, by then the pain will be gone.

(Interestingly, in an earlier post I mentioned that something had eaten my beans. But they grew back even bushier. So I am not holding a grudge.)

I also called in my landscapers to help me do things I would otherwise do, like cut back dead things and clear up my campfire pit, because my older granddaughter has specifically asked for a campfire when she returns from camp so we can cook Applegate organic hot dogs over the fire on a stick. And then, of course, S’mores. It’s humbling to not be able to do even the simple basic things that I’ve always taken for granted. I told my granddaughter in a letter to camp that she is going to have to haul the wood, collect the kindling, and learn how to light a fire. She’s almost 10, so it’s time.

Bundy, my long-time landscaper, gave me a wild cherry tree sapling for a staff. “Like Gandalf,” he said. I am going to use it! But I’m also going to stay home. Say no to outings. And finish my book, which is almost as painful as my knee.

To the pain!

I hope you are all enjoying the end of summer.