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Old v. New

Is it a bad thing if you yearn for a toilet seat that decreases the air time from your ass to the resting juncture?

I recall going to Lyle’s grandparents’ home when I was in my early 30’s and being utterly appalled that they had installed one of the makeshift risers on their toilet seat. Who would invent such a ridiculous thing that inevitably harbored all kinds of old people germs? I felt like if it was that hard to get on and off the toilet, perhaps someone should simply put the gimps out of their misery. I’m speaking metaphorically of course. Lyle’s grandparents were sweet, kind and funny souls who I loved dearly, and I would have never, ever wished them any harm.

I would also NEVER need to install one those contraptions in my home. That’s THE best predestined glimpse a person could get. I don’t think that I have ever said never, and it didn’t find its way into my life.

My knees are shot from years of playing volleyball. Yeah, my dad warned me about that too. While I may not quite be ready to call in the contractors for a complete overhaul of my bathroom to replace my toilet, I do find myself wishing that we had moved into a house with one already installed. As I think about it, Lyle and his torn hamstring could actually find a handicapped shower pretty delightful right now, which would allow us to toss the shower chair to the curb that he’s currently using.

All our troubles may actually be linked to that damn chair. Lyle found it at a garage sale several years ago when we knew I was going to have to have surgery on my ankle and would be layed up all summer. For three months I cursed the thing as I also clung to the fact that it gave me the freedom to wash my own ass as I convalesced, but who knows what kind of energy that chair brought into our home from the previous owner. Maybe these are devices best purchased at medical supply stores.

We’ve had to pull that damn chair down from the cobweb-infested rafters in the garage a few times since and each time I wondered if we should help it find a new home, but each time I also reminded myself of how klutzy I am so I might want to hang onto it a little while longer…

Now that my knees are going, am I stuck with this piece of extruded plastic and aluminum for the next 50 years? Suddenly, I don’t know whether to mourn or celebrate the fact that I come from stock that live well into their 90s.

I think of the things that hurt or just don’t feel quite the same on my body as they did when I was in my twenties. It hardly seems fair especially given that I had absolutely no appreciation of what it was like to perform any physical task without second thought. Now, I can do most everything I want; however, an NSAID is going to be invited to the party – one that lasts 12 hours is preferred.

As I sit complaining, I realize that at 65 I may look back as I do presently at 25 in a more hobbled up state than now. Hell there is no “may” in the equation. If I’m breathing, I’m gonna feel worse. Now, that’s a happy thought.

I kinda wish I could channel that woman for just a few minutes. I suppose I have access to her, my mom is just a phone call away. She tells me “this” wherever the “this” is may be as good as it gets. Seems like a downer when you say it, but it is really a nice reminder to live each day fully so I suppose I will ease my happy ass and achy knees off the couch and get on with my day. Cheers.

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2 Responses

  1. Just a note, that low toliet has been my savior. Try to set with one your swollen leg off the toilet while you do your business on a high rise. Unless you want to clean bed pans, I suggest you leave it.

  2. Over time, my husband has installed taller toilets in some of our bathrooms. Partly because of his aging mom and her aging knees for the rare times he visits, and partly because he is tall. But sometimes a short woman finds some toilets too tall!

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