Edward G. Nilges, “Something is Afoot: Cancer’s Effect on My Left Foot”
My Left Foot has been grievously wounded by the combination of the cancer’s pressure from the lymph nodes on nerves and muscles and bones of the groin, and last winter’s “Deep Vein Thrombosis” acquired on my 14 hour transpacific flights for my poor son’s funeral.
The therapy shall include this drawing, and a deeper drawing of the muscle structure, for it appears that when I push my left toe to the left or up manually, it isn’t participating in the motion. But then it powerfully pushes back. Which means that of a matching pair of muscles called the “adductor” and “abductor” the one that lifts the toe towards the mean saggital plane of my body, the adductor, has failed while the abductor is working.
Got the details above from wikipedia, knew of the concept from art anatomy.
So, the question is whether I can spend time pushing the toe up and towards the mean sagittal plane, and let it abduct away from the MSP which it seems to do by itself. Will this bring back abductor function?
I got a holistic sense in running that it’s all like wow this big sphere and if you fix any part of a sphere you fix the whole thing. Wow…where did that come from. Of course, it comes from the Jewish saying that he who saves one life saves the whole world. Or one toe. Just keep the damn thing moving, each healthy cell contains the whole story in the form of DNA. Keep it moving in running, the dance, walking.
I hate walking, it’s so old aged. It forces you to stay at the speed of the slowest member of your family. Oh yeah, let it out, let out the bile…I want to run and run free on Bondi down to Bronte along the Fatal Shore (translation: Sydney Australia). And yet the eyes of Peter’s babies keep drawing me in these pretty little photographs the volunteers helped me frame. Tessa America offers me her baby ring toy if I would visit and Esme perks up.
Listen! For some oddwad with nothing better to do has loaded a very good (English Baroque Soloists) version of Bach’s Christmas Oratorio with its sublime, dignified arias from one of those overpriced DVDs or BluRays.
Schlafen, meine Lieben…: Sleep, my dearest: enjoy thy rest
Schlafen, meine Lieben, the aria at about 40 minutes, is exceptionally good. I am using the music, somewhat guiltily, to mask out the coughing of the bird lung man (the one whose lungs have been so weakened that his cough is like the call of a bird) and Bald Man’s Wife, the wife of the balding man who’s dying, who comes up almost defiantly with a normal man’s cough, heavy with sputum. The wife of the dying man has caught a virus or a bug and is coughing her lungs out but there’s nobody who’ll stay with her husband, I’d guess, but her. The men of the family show up, stick around for five minutes waiting for, what? Money? Forgiveness? To be able to forgive? I don’t know, I just know that the women hold up more than half what’s left of Tian, sky, for the men.
The Bird Lung Man’s Wife came, apparently for the first time. She brought congee in a metal breakfast bucket and the Bird Lung Man ate it greedily for each home made congee in Hong Kong is unique.
But the Bird Lung Man’s Wife refused to sit where he could see her, and kept sort of turning out the door or looking my way as if I’d help her. I was very annoyed by this and went to the small convenience store. When I got back, Bird Lung Man’s Wife and he were actually exchanging pleasantries. Some sort of reconciliation? But she’s gone with me resenting her a lot for not staying.