The Swim To My 50s – {One-Two, I Can’t Buckle My Shoe}

A little tighter, please.

A little tighter, please.

First things first.  In my earlier blog I used the term ’50 Shades of ___’ after hearing that I would get more traffic on my blog.  The truth is, I don’t know if it worked.  My stats told me that my ‘views’ had increased, but it was probably just me checking to see if my views had increased that made them increase.  🙂 I did get a couple of new followers though.   
 
Swimming right along on my journey to my 50s, I took a look at my chubby arthritic fingers and thumbs.  They really don’t look as bad as they could.  If you have ever seen hands and fingers of a person with severe RA,  you know it’s not a pretty sight.  I am very fortunate that I don’t have such deformities but I don’t think I will be modeling for Tiffany’s anytime soon.  In my opinion, they don’t look like 50-year-old hands.  They look more like…46 {a totally random number I just chose}.  
 My knuckles, however, when inflamed, can serve as weapons, defending me from harm’s way.  You don’t want to mess with me during a knuckle flare-up!  
20130324_201702
The good news is that because of this little problem, I am now the proud owner of this beautiful, shiny 2.0 karat…faux diamond ring!  Isn’t it gorgeous?  Don’t get me wrong, I love my engagement ring and wedding band my husband got me back in ’89, but there is no way those babies are getting past my killer knuckles.  Until I decide to spend a thousand dollars getting them re-sized, they will have to remain tucked away in my safe.
We all take for granted what we do with our hands and fingers on a daily basis.  We don’t even think about it.  Until, your hands and fingers don’t work they way they should!  I can’t tell you how often I have had to ask for help putting my bra on.  It’s not that easy to have to reach way back and try to blindly hook on the tiny hooks, preferably at the same time.  I know many men practice and have become quite apt at un-hooking bras, but hooking them on is a whole different story, especially when your fingers are stiff, swollen and throbbing.
Like the time I was stuck in my bedroom trying frantically to put my bra on and get dressed, so I could attend to the two workers I had hired to paint my living room.  They ended up waiting 45 minutes for me to come out to tell them what color paint I had chosen.  If only you could have witnessed my desperation and distorted maneuvering I had to undergo to get that small garment on.   I wanted to cry.  But most of all, I wanted to call the workers into my room and say, “Hey, men in my living room, ‘you guys mind coming into my room and giving me a non-arthritic hand and hook my bra on for me?”  
Fortunately, after 45 minutes, I achieved my goal without the help of my painters.
 
In addition to being pretty good at using my teeth to open packages and my toes to pick things up from the floor, I have gotten savvy at utilizing the many gadgets and user-friendly products out there that make my life easier.  One of my favorites is the bag of cooked/hard-boiled eggs that come already peeled!  Yes, they sell them in grocery stores.  Not only do I not have to boil the eggs, but I don’t have to use the fine motor skills required to peel the eggs!  I highly recommend them, even if you are arthritis-free.
 
One one occasion, when my older, ex-football player brother was eating dinner with us, I complained about having to bend my wrist in order to get the fork into my mouth to eat.  I expressed the wish for someone to make forks that are bent so that you don’t have to do the bending.  Within seconds, ‘Mr. Hulk‘ had my fork in his hands and effortlessly bent it.  He handed it to me and said, “Here you go”.
 
Well, I loved my fork so much that I used it every day.  Then, a wonderful friend of mine surprised me by running out to our local medical supply store to buy me the whole set!  Ta-da!  So, although I may not be able to buckle my shoe,  I can eat my already peeled hard-boiled eggs utilizing my bent fork, pain-free.
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One thought on “The Swim To My 50s – {One-Two, I Can’t Buckle My Shoe}

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    Like

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