Healing A Vacuuming Injury

Long ago I gave up the idea of having an immaculate house. Just ain’t possible with pets. Not for me anyway. Not for me and staying sane. Three dogs equals twelve paws times eight trips outside each day equals 96 dirty paws. I am not patient or OCD enough to wipe or wash paws after every trip outside.

Of course, there are different stages. Slightly damp ground means only a faint paw print on the hardwood floors. Rainy and soggy increases the possibility of muddy paws which must be toweled if not dipped into a bowl of water, rinsed and dried. The final category is thawing ground, not muddy, and the result is paws that have collected little clumps of dirt.

It was while dealing with clumps of dirt that I received a vacuuming injury. Zoom, zoom, zoom over the carpet, up and back, up and back - my fierce Miniature Pinscher lunging viciously at the vacuum each time it came close. Then suddenly, unexpectedly, a misstep and I twisted my knee. I tried to stand up, but couldn’t tolerate weight on the one leg. WTH? A vacuuming injury.

Ice. Warm bath. Ice. Ibuprofen. Rest. Then out to friends’ house for a healthy

salmon dinner. (And for dessert - organic blueberries and strawberries with mango sherbet, vanilla bean gelato and raspberry fudge chunk Greek frozen yogurt.) I hobbled along using a stick cane I found in the garage. One friend suggested reiki for my knee. But I think it was the dinner grace that sent healing ju-ju to my knee. She stood by the dinner table and waved her arm in a circle, encompassing the table and all the people sitting there. “Bless this food and everyone here with light for the higher good. Thank-you, God. Amen.” I almost saw sparkles fly to my knee as I took in the prayer and rubbed my knee.

We ate. We watched the Olympics. We talked about the Academy Award nominated movies. And when I arose to go home, putting weight on my leg was not a problem. On the way home my wife said, “Probably the ibuprofen.” I didn’t reply, but in my mind I’m thinking healing energy was served with the salmon and gelato. Me, the agnostic/atheist. I’m giving credit to healing energy. To the magical power of the universe. To the cosmos. To the things that are just past the reach of understanding.

That was Saturday. No pain on Sunday. Didn’t use ice or ibuprofen. By the end of the day I had just a slight reminder that something had happened. On a knee that has previously shown some instability. But not too bad. This morning the miniscule twinge is still here, if I pay attention. And this morning is Zumba. The old (younger) me would have brushed caution to the wind, gone to Zumba and toughed it out through any pain. The newer (older) me is learning and sometimes accepting that my body can no longer rely on youth. I must take care. I must use caution. I must consider consequences.

So, I did not go to Zumba. Part of me was quite content to sleep in (after a couple of rounds of dogs out, dogs in, dirty paws). Another part felt defeated, wimpy, old. Still, a quiet voice inside congratulated me for paying attention, listening to my body and making choices based in reality, not misperception, anxiety or fear. Things I give power, much too often.

"Pay attention to your body. The point is everybody is different. You have to figure out what works for you."   Andrew Weil

Who let the dogs out?