I know you’ve heard that
saying that getting old is not for sissies. I’m finding out every day how true
that is. It seems that one health complaint will improve as another one takes
its place.
Earlier this year, I noticed
some pain in my hand and wrist when I tried to take notes or write out checks.
I decided it was just another form of my arthritis and went on about my
business thinking it would soon go away on its own. It didn’t. It persisted and
very gradually grew more painful until it hurt to use my right hand for every
day things like combing hair and brushing teeth. By then, I had researched
through Google and decided it must be a combination of carpal tunnel and
arthritis, but what to do, so many conflicting opinions and treatments. Wear a
wrist brace at night, but, no, wrist braces don’t help. Do these exercises, but
they can make it worse. One contrary blast after another, and still I had no
definitive diagnosis.
My next doctor’s appointment
is November 20th, and I am determined to wait until then. But what
should I do in the meantime, when it is continually giving me more and more
trouble. I did what I usually do, adapt. I tried using my left hand for more
things although I have found out I am definitely not ambidextrous. Writing with
my left hand is out of the question, illegible even to me.
Then, another impossible task
popped up that I hadn’t expected. I like to make veggie chili with canned black
beans, pintos and tomatoes. I grabbed my manual can opener, which isn’t a wimpy
one but very heavy-duty, one I’ve used for many years.
I crunched it onto the
can and tried to turn the hefty black handle. I found it impossible to do. It
moved not even a centimeter, and my wrist was screaming at me to stop. I turned
the whole setup around and proceeded at a snail’s pace with my left hand, and,
finally, I completed the task many minutes later. Well, I thought to myself, at
least I know how to take care of this problem. At this point, my
online-research of electric can openers began.
I had no idea how many kinds
there were, from hand-held battery-operated ones to the free-standing electric
ones with knife sharpeners, bottle openers and even plastic bag openers. I
remembered having an electric can opener in my younger days and thought of my
distaste of the grimy gooey mess that ultimately formed on the rotating cutting
wheel. Certainly, time and ingenuity had made improvements to this problem.
And, yes, as my fingers did the walking, I found several with removable cutting
heads that would rinse clean under running water. That’s what I wanted so now
on to price and availability. And as you might expect, the dreaded Walmart won
the contest.
I say “dreaded” because I try
to avoid going to Walmart. Walking miles from the parking lot to get to the
small-appliance section, rubbing elbows with thousands of sneezers and coughers,
steering a wobbling, misaligned shopping cart, and waiting in a check-out line
until my legs needed shaving were not my idea of a happy shopping experience.
But I wanted that can opener, and Walmart had it for $19.96.
So on Saturday next, I drove
the few miles to my closest Walmart store. I was not disappointed, I did walk
miles, I rubbed elbows with coughers and sneezers, and I drove a wobbly cart.
But I had no trouble finding the prize, and when I made my way back to the long
check-out lines, I decided to use the self-service check-outs. Several were
standing empty, just waiting for me. With only one item I was out the door in
record time while grass was growing under everyone else’s feet. And when I got
to my truck, a nice couple with what looked like a two-year old, asked to take
my cart back to the store. They promptly settled little Mikey in the shopping
cart seat as I sweetly smiled, “Thank you!”
Back at home I unboxed my
opener and positioned it on the counter near the sink where the cleaning would
be handy. Mopsy, my kitty, rubbed against my leg, and I thought why not, let’s try it out on a can of tuna.
So that’s what I did. That can opener has to be the Ferrari of can openers,
easy to start, quiet as a mouse, no sloshing or dripping, and automatically
stopping while still holding the can like a champ. I am a happy camper, going
from a Model T manual opener to an electric Ferrari with hardly any effort. So,
take that carpal tunnel! One thing outsmarted at least.