I'm having a hard time with this

I'm having a hard time finding acceptance with this permanent lameness.  Let's be honest, I've always had a hard time with it. But right now I'm angry. I'm frustrated. I'm sad. 

I hate the effort, time and money I spent on rehabilitating my knees with their bilateral patella-femoral syndrome 5 years ago, only to see that hard work gone in the blink of an eye. Sure, it bought me time and energy to enjoy a short few years of playing with my family, but it seems like a waste in light of being sentenced to being hurt the rest of my life.

I hate that there is so much left to do in the world that I won't be able to do. I think of all the places I wanted to take the kids as they got older. I bided my time when they were little, anticipating the fun of having kids this age--old enough to keep up, old enough to inhale learning, old enough to appreciate. There will be no race to the top of trails or towers. Someone else will have to teach them

I'm having a hard time knowing that I can't just put in the hard work to get things done. I want to rearrange and change, but I can't. What once could be accomplished with stubborn, hard physical work is set aside. I have to give up the changes I want. I can't simply dig a hole and remove sod, or move the piano on my own. I am reliant on everyone around me. Frankly, when you are forever in need, there aren't a lot of people who stick around. And you don't want to alienate the few who do.

I hate giving up dreams, even those far-fetched ones that I know wouldn't work out. Remodel an old house to reflect the beauty of its era? That will never happen.  That won't happen once we climb out of this financial pit we are in. That won't happen when the kids are raised. That won't happen because I can't do the work. Grow and preserve all of our own food? That won't happen. It won't happen even if I have the time and supplies to stand over a hot stove for hours canning like my grandmother taught me. I can't stand like a 70-year-old woman.

So I'm having a hard time with everything. I wanted to do so much and now I'm nothing more than a spectator at best and an obligation at worst.

Winter and Day 571

As winter storm after winter storm washes over southern Idaho, I'm constantly reminded of how limited my life is. I struggle with the joy of snow falling in great amounts and the excitement of living in it--because I do love snow--and the disappointment of not being able to go out and enjoy it.

I'm staying home today because I'm on the second day of side effects from cortisone shots in my failing knee. Yesterday, drugged  on pain killers and completely miserable, I couldn't focus on anything but trying to control the pain. Today, I can focus, but the breakthroughs of hideous pain reduce me to angry and frantic outbursts--which is never a professional behavior, and I've learned I can't control my visceral reactions to such pain that erupts from my knee, stabs through my body and makes me physically ill.  It's just too much.

The images showed that an alarming amount of cartilage is dead or dying in my left knee. Such an amount that my orthopedic doctor uttered a quiet "shit" under his breath when he looked at the pictures on the computer screen. He compares my knee with that of a 100-year-old woman.

My left knee used to look like my right one. The images of the right show less arthritis and damage of the cartilage, comparable to that of a healthy 80-year-old. He explains that the injury and lack of immediate care from a year and a half ago has caused the cartilage to die and disintegrate much faster in the left. The bones grate against one another in my knee, wearing and enlarging holes in one another. The bones catch and scrape so painfully that any movement is agony. 

"I guess I should give away those ice skates?" I ask, trying to lighten the mood.  He looks at me and shakes his head, saying, "You're only 41.  You're so young... I'm sorry." 

We talk replacement, and timeline.  But in the end it comes back to the pain I'm in versus what I might face later. Neither option is a good one.

With this dreams and plans are once again let go. It seems like I spend an inordinate amount of time dreaming up a better life to work toward, only to be reminded that I can't have it.

Winter dreaming

There comes that point as the snow piles up when I engage in that timeless activity of hope: looking at seed catalogs and Pinterest for summer ideas. I really want to move, expand, fence and most importantly -- make my garden more accessible for my physical limitations. I also would like to keep small fowl for eggs and meat.

This is where being poor shows yet another disadvantage. The cost of supplies to rework my property to better suit my abilities and provide more for my family is frustratingly prohibitive. Ideas on the internet for fenced-in gardens with tall, raised garden beds abound, as do plans for chicken coops and quail houses. Unfortunately, even the "cheap" options aren't attainable when you are scraping by to pay bills.

Further frustration is found in my inability to be my husband's work partner. No longer do we split a job, team carry, or take turns doing a hard task. We no longer work together, and it feels so wrong to impose ideas of major renovations on him when I cannot help him carry through.

Sometimes the biggest heartbreak of my disintegrating knee is that I can't do my part. For 20 years I worked along side my husband in every chore that needed to be done. We've packed up all of our belongings and moved across states with no one else's help. We've taken turns with shoveling snow, raking leaves, stacking wood and mowing yards.  And now, we don't.  Now the work rests completely on his shoulders and I know its a lot for him to bear.  Being poorer only adds to this, as it takes more labor to accomplish what money can ease.

So as the sky turns white with snow again and I pace from window to window feeling trapped by the piles of snow, slush, ice and rivulets of water coursing down the roads, I'll continue to dream of spring and summer. Maybe in the clicking of websites I'll find the answers to how I can change my life.  More likely I'll just indulge in a fantasy to get me through the winter.