Everything changes….

Live long enough, and those two words take on more meaning than most other words in the English language short of: I love you. I mean, I love my wife. I love my family. I love friends and I love experiencing life. But, sometimes, when everything changes, life hits back: hard. Recently, I had such an event.

Let’s not get ahead of the story. Let’s start here: recently, I haven’t posted as much. Some of that was by design. We got busy on the movies, as we intended. We got busy on gearing up for the heating season, also, as we intended; i.e., we heat with wood and it doesn’t process itself. And, when posting’s an avocation, rather than a vocation, life takes precedent.

Then, everything changes.

I first noticed it standing at the sink, doing dishes. I do all the housework: laundry, vacuuming, dishes, bathroom cleanings, general cleanings, and mopping floors. Cinderfella? Not so much; my wife’s the primary bread winner and until the movies start making money, housework’s a job I do. So, I noticed it first when Skyler came up and said something about checking out some of the special effects on the sci-fi movie we’ve nearly finished. And, I just turned as he started to speak.

Then, a sharp pain in my upper arm, right side. I didn’t say anything, other than I’d catch him in a minute. But, as he went back to the editing room, I thought to myself: “getting older feels like this?”

A few days later, I was out moving some wood. Granted the pieces were way bigger, and heavier, than I should’ve been moving. Then, I flipped one. It probably weighed between 150 and 200 pounds. Nothing I hadn’t done a hundred times before. And, I thought nothing of it. I mean, nothing. Immediately, I felt something akin to a rubber band stretching, then rolling, and a sharp, sudden pain. As an athlete, or former athlete who’s always stayed in shape, I immediately knew something was off. I took off my shirt. I went to the truck’s mirror. I looked for deformities, blood bruising, or any other general sign of trouble.

And, nothing. Nothing but immense pain, and anger at myself. Because, having lived 56 years, I know the difference between: ‘hurt and injured’.

Moving up to full-speed, on next Monday, at 9:30 AM, I go to the Osteopathic Surgeon’s office and see if I’m on the beam with my diagnosis. I have at least a partial tear in the long head of the bicep tendon; complete with ‘popeye’ signature. I’m hopeful it’s nothing to do with the rotator cuff. If it is, then surgery’s going to cost even more. Fortunately, thanks to my hard-working, Ph.D. wife, we have insurance. Still, deductible’s exist, as do copays. And, insurance companies aren’t in business to be our friends. And, thanks to taking a chance on trying to show humans as noble creatures through our films, we’re not exactly rolling in dough right now. And, I can hear Led Zeppelin ringing behind my ears: “it’s no, no, no, no…nobody’s fault, but mine.”

Not crying, not even looking for any kind of sympathy. I’ll adjust. I already have. I mean, you could’ve told me I live a very physical life. I’d have agreed, in a hot-second. But, I never realized how important weight lifting, running, doing wood, doing construction in houses, and performing with this body, was.

I understand inevitability, exists. I understand vulnerability, exists. And, other than the love we give, and the love we share, I also understand: everything changes.

I understand it. …just don’t ask me to like it.