So here is another adage that has become a truism: as we age our bodies eventually begin to betray us…
Increasingly we need help. Help with vision: such as glasses or cataract surgery. Help with hearing: expensive state-of-the-art hearing aids and long lasting batteries. Arthritic knees require a cane, two canes, a walker.
And the litany repeats and expands yearly. My personal nemesis is a Bad Back. I mutter and grumble often and in high decibels about my Bad Back. A collection of fractured ribs and discs that have happened with dire consequences over time. Mostly I am still somewhat able to take care of myself, but cook a meal or scrub a floor? Never happen.
So now I live with two of our daughters. Each abide two hours distant from the other. As needs must they shuttle me to and fro so they can retain some semblance of a life of their own. Both daughters are loving, generous people. For now the unusual housing arrangement is working. Two other able, affectionate daughters stand at the ready to Mom-sit and two sons ply us all with homemade blackberry jam, books and encouraging emails between visits.
On my last visit to my primary care provider the well-intentioned but obviously short sighted medical guru urged me, in the strongest of terms, to trot my recalcitrant Bad Back across town to the local Senior Center at least three times a week to join classes that purportedly will strengthen the lumbar muscles in said lousy Bad Back.
Ridiculous man! Does he not know that perambulating with the early birds and their worms in a northwest Washington winter is not high on the bucket list?!
It rains in the Pacific Northwest. It blusters. It rains some more. The damp invades the very marrow of one’s bones. It is wet. Very wet. Miserably wet. A whole lot of wet…
Leaving the learned doctor’s office I indignantly chicken walked – head and shoulders thrust forward, neck bent and eyes downcast, cluck, cluck, cluck, back to the waiting chariot. Such stance is practically guaranteed to produce a dowager’s hump and possibly precede a smash up into an unseen wall. But never mind- that is how I trot these days.
Arriving home, feathers wet and rumpled, I promptly did what any stubborn octogenarian would do – gathering the trusty iPad I fired up the search engine and forthrightly downloaded several sites of low impact, doable exercises aimed at the offending Bad Back.
Harumpgh… Uffda… Voi Voi…
Realization set in apace. These basic moves can all be accomplished at my convenience, in my own time, in my warm, dry cozy living room with an ordinary chair and a cup of pleasurable Lady Grey tea at my elbow. No need whatsoever to trot around in the Northwest’s inclement winter weather to moan and groan – huff and puff – thru a regimen of exercises alongside a higgly-piggly bunch of definitely old folk.
Now, you may well ask, what has a Bad Back and restorative exercises have to do with legacy giving at Tiny Frog Strategies?
Really – not a whole lot.
Except – and here is the binding leap: if an aged, tetchy, Norwegian can wobble along the internet highway to solve a prickly problem, so can you.
Click on the proper tab and instantly dialog with the Pros who have the answers. Julia and David are both very good, very, very able, in this field. They really are… Years of experience coupled with expert know-how, joined in caring concern, await.
Besides this surety is another fact – a sidebar if you will – both brainiacs possess marvelous, supple, non-problematic Backs to match their clever cerebellums.
Go Julia. Go David. Go You!