I am feeling my physical vulnerability all of a sudden. Having been hale and hearty – a carthorse, rather than a racehorse – all my life, I now tread a little carefully. When I moved into my first flat I carried sofas on my back, now I make sure I tense my core when I take a suitcase off the carousel and I bend from the – faintly twingeing – knees. Wet floors worry me – what if I fall? Not quite ‘What if I have a fall?’ but still…
And, largely, I am micro-injured. A bruise here, a leg scrape there, a hip spasm, a ripped cuticle, a badly slept-on shoulder, a stubbed toe, a pink eye, a strange arm ache, a mouth ulcer, an ugly-arsed oven burn, you know… of course you do.
It is possible to be broadly fine with everything to be thankful for whilst also micro-compromised by micro-injury. Yesterday I walked into the fan (mini-calf bleed), whacked my toe on the banister (bye bye pedicure) and did something odd to my sciatic nerve (clearly I am practically a doctor) while attempting Russian twists with a kettle bell. I feel limpy. And limpy people are not in possession of a vulgarity of perfect health.
Question: do many micros make a macro? If I add up all the tinies then am I ill? Should I be worried? Am I failing? Or do I just need to concentrate a bit more these days? Am I micro-frail or just busy/bored/not really here at any given time? And, while we’re here, does anyone else walk into doorframes? What’s that about?