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Vulnerable
Mar. 1st, 2016 04:37 amThis morning, I have a final pre-op appointment at the orthopedist's office. I have some forms to fill out, instructions to receive, etc. It's my last appointment with anyone before the surgery on my knee. I just want to get it done, and get back on track physically, so that I can stop limping around like an old man. Oh wait, I am an old man. I'd just never felt compelled to think of myself that way, before all of this.
These days, I'm painfully aware of the looming infirmities of age as I limp from my car in the Shop City parking lot and into the ironically-named Tops Friendly Market. The parking lot where I've stepped on discarded hypodermic needles. The store from which I've brought home containers of ice cream only to find (twice), when I opened them, that someone from the section 8 housing across the lot had opened them, eaten out of them, and put them back on the shelf. In that environment, with my limping walk, I feel vulnerable in a way that I never did before.
Suddenly, I'm the one that stands out as potential prey, the one most likely to be culled out of the pride by the watching hyena. Because we know, with as much certainty in this city as in any jungle, that this is how it works. Before this, I used to say that I had one good fight and one good flight left in me. And I felt a certain pride, a certain security, in that. Now, with an ailing shoulder and a bad knee, I'm not so sure. The aging lion still has its claws and fangs. I have... a cell phone.
And, as we also know, "When seconds count, the cops are only minutes away..."
LPK
LiveJournal
3.1.2016
These days, I'm painfully aware of the looming infirmities of age as I limp from my car in the Shop City parking lot and into the ironically-named Tops Friendly Market. The parking lot where I've stepped on discarded hypodermic needles. The store from which I've brought home containers of ice cream only to find (twice), when I opened them, that someone from the section 8 housing across the lot had opened them, eaten out of them, and put them back on the shelf. In that environment, with my limping walk, I feel vulnerable in a way that I never did before.
Suddenly, I'm the one that stands out as potential prey, the one most likely to be culled out of the pride by the watching hyena. Because we know, with as much certainty in this city as in any jungle, that this is how it works. Before this, I used to say that I had one good fight and one good flight left in me. And I felt a certain pride, a certain security, in that. Now, with an ailing shoulder and a bad knee, I'm not so sure. The aging lion still has its claws and fangs. I have... a cell phone.
And, as we also know, "When seconds count, the cops are only minutes away..."
LPK
LiveJournal
3.1.2016
