If you’ve noticed my absence, I’ve been dealing with a rotator cuff injury lately. Partly due to carrying around Baby A before he left us – my aging body can’t handle the strain of a nine-month-old like it used to, but that’s another story. And also probably due to our minivan door’s motor that stopped working properly. Yanking it open and shoving it along the track to put Baby A in his car seat and get him out left its mark on my body.
Those things, combined with my mutant state, have left me unable to do many things without pain, including writing in any form. Typing. Pen and paper. Even logging in to my computer to experiment with voice to text. Thankfully, after many visits to my chiropractor and massage therapist, I am on the mend. My usual places hurt, but for the most part I’m used to living with that. The pain radiating down my arm has been another matter, and it doesn’t seem to want to go away. Yet it is so much better than a couple months ago, a few weeks ago. I want to be patient. But I’m not. I want to figure out how to be the writer I am on the inside even when I can’t write. I want to learn how to have a more consistent writing life when the act of writing always leads to pain, even when I’m healthy.
But when I consider walking away from writing, choosing not to write, I can’t. I write because I have to. Because it’s a release. Because it’s therapy. Because it’s how I feel whole. Because the words insist on being released. I don’t know how to be the writer I want to be. But I also don’t know how not to be a writer.
I already have a sit-stand desk with my monitor elevated so I’m not looking down much. But I still often need to look at the keyboard for editing purposes or to make sure I’ve put my fingers on the correct keys after lifting them to turn a page or make a note on actual paper.
And I’ve recently acquired a rolling book/laptop stand that Little E and I have dubbed Spinley Sprocket, Jr. Right now my iPad is resting on the ledge of the stand at eye level, and I have a keyboard for my iPad in my lap. Not much need to look down. This is helping, but not always convenient. The base of the stand is heavy, necessary to support the weight of a small laptop or a heavy textbook. I’ve read several books, their front and back cover secured to stand’s surface. But sometimes I just want to hold a book in my hand, look something up on the internet, type a quick email, without having to use Spinley.
I’m so thankful I’ve progressed to the point I am. Overall, I have a healthy body, even though I have to be careful with certain activities. And as I get older, it’s only going to get harder. Our bodies wear down. They become more susceptible to years of usage. They lose some of their functionality, no matter how well we care for them. I’m not being a pessimist. I don’t want to hide from reality. If I can learn to function with any limitations I have, then I hope I can continue to find joy in doing what I can. And dare I say, be more patient?
grace for each moment, one moment at a time