Too old for the olympics

by Shauna on April 5, 2012

I was all set to write a story about a couple of crazy women who have been all over the news lately. You know who I’m talking about. Sarah Palin and that lady who claims to be too beautiful. I even had a perfect title for it. Bitches Be Crazy.

But when I sat down to compose it I didn’t have a good feeling about bringing other people down. That’s not what I’m about and also I don’t think I could say anything new regarding both these delusional whack-os. OK, I’ll just say this one teeny little thing. Samantha Brick’s mirror? Made of magic.

I should totally go back and delete that last statement because I don’t feel good about myself for being so catty. It’s immature and unkind. And yet…I can’t bring myself to edit it out. What can I say, I’m a complicated woman.

Instead I’m going to tell you about the week I’m having.

It started out pretty much the same as any other week. Monday I went to workout and was forced to do 500 lunges. I knew when I got to number three hundred I was making a huge mistake.

My instincts were realized Tuesday morning when I tried to walk and fell flat on my face. I had to call for assistance in getting back on my feet. My whole body was rejecting the idea of movement of any kind, and bending my legs at all was 100 percent out of the question. Needless to say it’s hard to drive, climb stairs, or sit down without bending your legs.

My most favorite part of the post 500 lunges aftermath, was trying to pee. Ethan quickly showed me how to do it standing up, and that would have been super successful if I only had a penis for which to point the urine in the direction of the toilet bowl. Instead I just peed on my feet. He told me I was doing it wrong.

Mid morning I received a frantic call from my mom concerning Mimi. She said she was having chest pains and not feeling well. I called 911 and had an ambulance sent to the house.

Tortured and aching body be damned, I rushed to the hospital and met the ambulance there. Mimi was stable and OK and undergoing tests for half a dozen different things. After the dust settled my mom and aunt and cousin and I went to the hospital cafeteria for lunch.

The way to the cafeteria required descending down two flights of stairs. My brain quickly reminded me that such a task would be nearly impossible if not excruciatingly painful.

I grabbed hold of my cousin’s shoulders and slowly eased down a step at a time, my stance wide and legs straight. This caused my mom and aunt to laugh hysterically, and from the looks of all the other people on and around the staircase, I must have been quite a sight. In fact, my aunt described me as “adorably special needs.” Don’t worry, I’m trademarking it.

It was clear I needed a morphine drip and a soft, cushy mattress.

The last few days my aching body has recovered some. I informed my trainer that on top of being allergic to the wheelbarrow exercise I would no longer be able to perform lunges. He told me to stop whining and offered me a Hello Kitty bandaid. I’m not sure he’s taking my medical history seriously.

In between all my other regular weekly duties I’ve been staying at the hospital with Mimi. I painted her fingernails and washed her hair and walked her around the fourth floor so many times I’ve lost count. The whole thing has taken a toll on me emotionally. It’s hard seeing my precious Mimi lying in a bed, looking so frail and delicate. It’s the first time in my life I’ve had to come to terms that she’s aging…older…old. And yes, she’s lived 88 glorious years–and I’ve been around to share it with her for half of those–but I’m not ready to let her go. Not even close to being ready. I just want her to be here forever.

I was hesitant to even say anything about her being in the hospital because I don’t know…I never want to exploit her…this is what I choose to do with my life (making everything so public) and maybe she doesn’t want her business out there. But when I posted a picture of she and me on Facebook and asked for prayers/good thoughts/mojo, the response was overwhelming and actually gave me a sense of peace. Like somehow everything will be OK.

She continues to recover, but is in really good spirits and (I think) loving the attention.

I, on the other hand, was forced (again) to push that godforsaken wheelbarrow up and down four city blocks this morning.

When I told Mimi about this she offered to let me climb in the bed with her. Then she patted my arm and said, “You outta quit going to that workout. I think that trainer’s trying to kill you. You’re working out like you’re training for the olympics or something. You’re too old to be in the olympics.”

And that’s why I love her so much.

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{ 10 comments… read them below or add one }

thedoseofreality April 5, 2012 at 1:22 pm

This whole post made me cry. That sounds like something my Gama would have said. I miss her. And my mom. And going to the gym. One of these days I will get back to the gym. But I will still miss my mom and my grandmother. Hug your Mimi and tell her to feel better…seems like she has a living left to do! :)
thedoseofreality´s last blog post ..Let’s Go To the Videotape

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Kristen @ The Chronicles of Dutch April 5, 2012 at 1:24 pm

Grandma love is the best kind! Best wishes to Mimi

And for god’s sake, STOP doing the wheelbarrow! You’re making me hurt just by reading it.
Kristen @ The Chronicles of Dutch´s last blog post ..Body After Baby, Part II: The Clothes

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pgoodness April 5, 2012 at 1:30 pm

It’s good to have someone around that will tell you the truth. :) (glad she’s recovering well)
pgoodness´s last blog post ..Home

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Susan April 5, 2012 at 1:48 pm

Tell your Mimi that, for those of us who have lost our mimis, she is our honorary Mimi and we need her to get well and come pat all of us on the head.

You forgot to mention that part of the week was spent dodging tornadoes. Isn’t Fort Worth fun in the spring?

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The Commish April 5, 2012 at 3:20 pm

I need to follow you exercise example. I’ve set it aside too long.

All the best for you Mimi. I know how you feel.

The Commish

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The Commish April 5, 2012 at 3:21 pm

Sorry, I meant, “your Mimi.”

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Nikki Mohamed April 5, 2012 at 5:44 pm

Glad your Mimi’s getting better. Sorry your trainer is a paid assassin…maybe you should stop paying him. Note about peeing standing up as a girl: Straddle the commode. Of course, to do this you have to wear skirts and go commando or else remove all clothing from the waste down before going to the bathroom….and really, who has that kind of time?
Nikki Mohamed´s last blog post ..Why You Don’t Take Kids to Frederick’s

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shana April 5, 2012 at 8:09 pm

Wow, so many reactions. 1) Love to Mimi; I know you love her, and it sucks that she’s in pain. 2) That British woman is delusional, times 100. Ick. Enough said, 3) You are already gorgeous. Give yourself (and us other ordinary people) a break. Even when it may not be not entirely true (fiction blog, right?), I like it when you post that you’re feeling pudgy. Because as long as I live, I will never look the way you look. Post more about chowing down on queso. I can relate to that. :) Love, love, love, to you, and your Mimi.

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mmmvino April 6, 2012 at 5:13 pm

I don’t blame you one bit. I wish often that my “Mimi” was still around. I only had her for 13 years and that was not long enough. I miss her so. Your Mimi sounds wonderful.

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Alysia April 10, 2012 at 11:06 am

I agree with Susan. She is the honorary Mimi. Lots of good wishes and hugs to her.
And your crazy trainer needs to take a vacay. Just so you can get back to the “Land of the Squatting to Pee”. JS.

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