Done with pushing through
When I am "done" with something it's never because I'm fed up with it, I abandon bad paths as quickly as possible, don't pursue them long enough to get fed up. Sometimes it's a path that was once fruitful but now yields diminishing returns, has even gone counterproductive. And more and more often these days it's something I might want to pursue for some reason but has age-related downsides.
I was never a hard worker, at least regarding physical labor. I could do it, but didn't enjoy it or get much satisfaction from accomplishing it. Still, there have been occasions where the job really needed to get done and I was the one who should do it, and mostly I was able to apply myself, not shirk the responsibility.
These days I have to consider a new thing, my reduced capacity. I can still do things like yardwork, but I can't endure as long and it takes more time to recover. Mostly my strategy is to reallocate the time — maybe I can't work for hours at a stretch anymore, but an hour a day can eventually cover the same ground, even proved extra benefits — I get out every day, the work itself becomes more familiar, less distateful, I do get some satisfaction from doing what needs to be done, not looking for ways to avoid it.
Even more recent, the fragility I've read about has started to become real. I bruise more easily. Scratches are slower to fade. My skin is just thinner — today my son asked me "What happened to your arm?" and when I looked I saw a sizeable gash, shallow but bloody, the top layer of skin torn off — one I hadn't felt when it happened.
A couple of days earlier I was tossing some brush on a pile, lost my footing, tumbled backwards. The grass was lush and I've learned to take a fall … but falling badly is one of the worst things an old person can do, risking cripping injuries that will heal slowly if ever. I've fallen like that many, many times over my life, but suddenly I see the need to take extra precautions, even avoid circumstances that can make falling more likely.
Even making my way around the house is on my mind. My bedroom is on the second floor, office on the first, laundry and freezer in the basement. I've spent plenty of time going up and down stairs, am just as able as ever to manage them strength-wise, but whether my balance is getting worse or I'm just more sensitive to having less than perfect balance, I have had the occasional slip, falls that have so far only hurt my pride, and I am resigned to finding ways to eliminate them — partly to avoid pain and inconvenience to me, mostly to avoid creating a burden for others.
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