We had more excitement than usual today on the Pickleball court. One of our players tripped and fell, the first to do so in a long time, which is a minor miracle considering the majority of us are in our 70s.This game is supposed to be less physically demanding than chasing a tennis ball around, and yet there’s still ground to cover and balls to reach for. Like life, it seems the less skilled you are, the harder you work.
After some persuading – “No, I’ll be fine”- I drove her home, an icepack already strapped to her wrist (sprained? broken?) and delivered her to her husband, who we’ve since learned took her to the Urgent Care people. Her concern was that she’d scared everyone and disrupted the day.
This brought to mind something I’ve noticed before. Many of us are eager to share bunion or bad knee issues, but those with something serious rarely discuss it. I have two friends, one in Florida and one in Massachusetts, with the same life-changing affliction. Both have Rheumatoid arthritis, which includes painful joints and muscles, fatigue and weakness, and yet you would never guess it. They both stay active, each walking several miles a day and yet once a week must inject expensive medication into themselves so they can keep going.
And really. Do we honestly think other people are interested in hearing again about that hitch in our get-along? The next time the arch on my foot (where I dropped a TV camera tripod years ago) flairs up, or my back is a bit stiff in the morning, I’m going to keep my big mouth shut.