I threw on this bookshelves Bow Tie o’ the Day in order to sit down to breakfast. These dictionaries and thesauri are my metaphorical meal. I am eating my words about how I didn’t think physical therapy for my rotator cuff would do anything except prolong the time I’d have to be in pain until the insurance company would ok some surgical repair of the damn thing. I didn’t hold out much hope for PT to make the pain in my shoulder livable. PT was painful and debilitating. At first. Although it began oh-so roughly, it has begun to help– enough to put off the surgery I and those in charge of my rotator cuff were sure would be happening about now.
I know myself pretty well– the good, the bad, the ugly. And one positive thing I can tell you about me is that I am quick to apologize when I’m wrong. If I’m wrong, I like to know. I don’t care about my ego. Saving face doesn’t matter. Being right for the sake of being right doesn’t appeal to me. I’d rather be corrected than pretend that the truth isn’t true. “Dear PT, please accept my apology for treating you like you were useless. You are not.” Apology given.
I’m crossing my fingers my PT regimen buys me at least another couple of years with my crappy old rotator cuff. If my shoulder pain doesn’t get in the way of me getting through a normal day of living, I won’t fuss about it. I won’t press the issue. I will keep doing my incredibly complex exercises like “the shrug.” Yes, I have to shrug. That’s a big part of my regimen: shrug, relax shoulders, shrug, relax shoulders, and so on. Hey, who am I to argue with it? It seems to be helping.
Now about this photograph: First, I want to emphatically declare I LIKE BIG BOOKS AND I CANNOT LIE.
Second, these different editions of the same information were milestones in my recovery from surgery. They are variations of The Oxford English Dictionary, which is the authority on the English language: spelling, meanings, origins, etc. There was a time in my life when I wanted the complete version of the OED, but I would rather own a house. I had to decide between one or the other. The official, complete OED is 120 volumes long. That would be an extravagant, indulgent purchase. Instead, I have a few much smaller versions that do the trick of aiding me in my serious writing.
After my surgeon stole 2/3 of my pancreas at Huntsman at the end of June, he told me I was forbidden to lift anything over 1-2 pounds for a couple of months. The tiniest Compact OED set in this picture weighs 2 pounds, so after a week or so, when I felt like writing again, I could lift them and use them, with only the slightest pains. OED Milestone #1. Score!
After the third week of my recovery, I figured it would be okay to pick up the the one-volume Pocket OED Dictionary/Thesaurus edition, which weighs 3 pounds. (How large must a pocket be to hold this Pocket OED?) I began using the book within a month of my surgery. Lifting it resulted in only a tug or two in my gut. OED Milestone #2. Score!
I wasn’t quite sure about graduating my lifting limits to the two-volume Compact OED Dictionary and OED Thesaurus. Each of the volumes weighs 4 pounds. I played it conservatively and didn’t pick them up until the end of the second month of my recovery. Just a strain or two in my gut. OED Milestone #3. Score!
And now, the two-volume New Shorter OED. Each of these volumes weighs in at a touch over 7 pounds. I was hesitant to pull these off the bookshelf long past the time I’m sure I could have done it without causing damage to my innards. Despite having conquered the smaller editions by the end of the second month of my convalescence, I held out picking up these tomes past the four-month mark. But I finally began freely using them in October, resulting in just a pinch of a pinch in my gut. Milestone #4. Game! Set! Match!
And yes, I do need and use every one of my OED reference books..