In the Middle of Too Many Stories

Life seem very unsettled right now. We are in the middle (maybe nearing the end) of too many stories.

Number One of course is the election--about which I cannot stop obsessing. (MSNBC is always on somewhere in my house)  I know that story will soon be over, and if I could pray, I would pray for a happy ending. But even on Election Eve, it's clear that the story of discord, acrimony, and numbing gridlock will surely contine after tomorrow's finale.  I always thought that Nixon would be the worst president of my lifetime; I never imagined someone could be so much worse. But, really, who could have ever imagined Trump?

Second unfinished story is my damned hamstring.  Short version:  I hurt something in the back of my leg while we were moving.  It got much worse after 3 days in the car driving to the UP.  The doctor I consulted in Houghton thought it was piriformis syndrome and sent me to Physical Therapy.  I had a wonderful PT doctor, but the stretches she recommended hurt too much.  Eventually I could tolerate them but I just didn't get much better. I had an MRI of my lower back, but nothing showed up.  By the end of the summer, I couldn't walk up hills or sit for any length of time without pain.  (And really sitting is one of my most important positions; right now I am typing this standing up.)

As soon as I got home I went to my own wonderful doctor, Sal Ciliberti.  He immediately ordered an MRI of my hip and leg and set up an appointment with an orthopedist.  MRI shows I have hamstring tear,  So not piriformis, not lower back. I spent a whole summer trying to feel better, and now I realize I wasn't even in the right story.  So I am waiting to find out what's next.

I am also settling into a new home.  And although I am so happy to have all that downsizing, and renovating and selling the house behind me, I still don't feel quite settled yet.

The bottom line, is that I haven't yet found the rhythm of my day.  I had hoped to walk the loop in Cherokee Park in the mornings (but I can't walk up hills), work on my architecture book in the afternoon (but I can't sit for long period).  All this, plus my intravenous connection to political TV, has meant days that tend to drift rather than go somewhere.

This seems way too gloomy (and self-obsessed) for a blog post, but it is part of the reality of retirement--a stage of life in which there are, for good or ill, lengthy stretches of time which are primarily comprised of waiting.

But trying for optimism, eventually waiting will be over and then there will be Thanksgiving and Hamilton, Budapest and Prague (if the orthopedist gives good news), and progress on my book.  And in the meantime of course--friends, movies, dinners out and a new home to settle into.