So we put a team in for the 10th northland Relay for life. Somehow I managed to be in charge. Not quite what I had planned in the recovery period from my surgery as it actually required a reasonable amount of organisation and commitment. We had 35 students that participated and we camped. This in itself required a car fully packed with gazebo and an assortment of tents chairs and sleeping equipment.
I decided to use our old lichfield tent, the one we first used as a couple more than 22 years ago, a small canvas tent. It went up fairly easily and I had taken a small stretcher that when I unpacked it looked at least 6 inches narrower than our old ones.
Sleep was a little out of the question, with the lights the music and the constant banter of the 20 students that camped with us for the night there was the unseasonably damp and slightly chill overtones of the early morning hours. My arthritis was playing up good style so I did retire for an hour or two and found it virtually impossible to find a comfortable spot.
Once cocooned in my duvet I had to contemplate how to get up again, should there be an emergency, a fire or some such event caused by the nightlights in the paper bags… no amount of effort was sufficient to enable me to get up with any grace or speed. It finally came to me that the only way I was getting up again without overturning the damn stretcher or ripping through my trusty old canvas tent was to attempt a version of the fosbury flop that we had done at school in my youth, which would of course at least leave me in a heap on the floor.
There is no grace in chronic health and ageing. Even at 49. I got as far as the floor and then spent the next five minutes working our how I was going to get upright with absolutely nothing to grab hold of.
It was a successful event despite the lack of sleep and the 48 hours of trying to recover. It was worthwhile and despite the challenges faced.
The next challenge was less than a day away when i began to be aware that my middle finger was beginning to rotate slightly and move away from its normal position, a brief trip to the GP confirmed my worst suspicion and raised the issue of ulnar drift. I wanted to cry and grieve for my poor middle finger but daren’t as it might make a mess of my nose. So I searched through all my bags of splints until I found the relevant ones to slow down ulnar drift.
I think it will take me a while to adjust if I do indeed need to grieve for my hand.