This morning when I clicked on Facebook, I got one of those updates about what I was doing on this day in various years past, and it shocked me.

Since my lipoedema went rampant and provoked the accompanying lymphedema, it has felt like an unending state of being that has surely lasted decades. But 10 years ago today, I was meeting my librarian friend Carey for breakfast at The Black Cow in Montrose. And six years ago, it was going to be 112 degrees by noon, so I was up at 6 a.m. and out in my yard madly watering all my plants in preparation, while having a conversation with my neighbors, who were having an early morning yard sale before moving out. They couldn’t afford the rent since the Covid epidemic had caused both of them to lose their jobs.

Contrast this to now: I no longer water my yards, because descending and climbing stairs is an ordeal I can only do once in a day (not the half dozen times it takes to accomplish all the watering), and it is impossible to drag the hose around and aim it properly while clinging with both hands to a walker so I don’t fall down. A couple of years ago I made the shift to paying someone—a teenager, a homeless guy, and now my cleaning lady—to water for me. And I have no idea who my neighbors are—in the past six years there have been several who have moved in and then moved on, and I have met none of them. I did wave at one once, when I was getting in the car to go to the doctor…

I don’t go out to breakfast. I can climb into my car and drive for short distances, but the necessity to climb out at the end of the drive, and then climb back in, and then climb back out and ascend those porch stairs? Yeah, that doesn’t happen unless it’s an urgent trip. And sitting in a restaurant trying to carry on a conversation while my legs either cramp or go to sleep, knowing all along that at some point I’m going to have to lever myself up out of this chair, shake off the “dead-leg,” and walk some unknown distance to the parking lot is simply too much—the enjoyment has taken an extreme back seat to the amount of trouble and pain caused by the activity.

So…where am I going with this post? I don’t know. It could be another whiny rant about not understanding why this happening, but what’s the point when I don’t understand? It could be a “let-this-be-a-lesson-to-you” homily about never knowing what’s coming so appreciate what you have right now. It could be an angry “what-the-fuck-is-the-problem” lecture about a medical system that has no intention of taking on the challenge of finding solutions for so many of us with debilitating conditions.

But I think I will just leave it at astonishment at how things have changed. I don’t have bandwidth for more this morning.