Spectacular Sunday!

Last night I began taking my Celebrex arthritis pain killers again.  They work. I had quit taking them about a week ago because I wasn't convinced that my aching limbs were any the better for taking the pills. But judging by the way I felt today, I am not about to abandon the prescription again any time soon. This is not the first time I have quit Celebrex.  About a year ago I had speculated that Tylenol or Aspirin pain killers were just as effective.  But I now don't believe they are. I have accordingly reduced my intake of Tylenol Arthritis (650 mg) from six to four per day - 2 at ten o'clock in the morning, 2 at four o'clock in the afternoon.  The Celebrex will start the day at 4:00 am and end the day at 8:00 pm.  This adjustment will hopefully serve to quell the pain without destroying my innards.  I have accepted that my sole problem is arthritis (as opposed to some related condition of sciatica or degenerative discs which no specialist has to date been able to isolate) and that it is never going away. I simply have to learn to live with it as best I can. Though this is hardly a brilliant deduction it illustrates how falsely persuaded I've become to imagine that almost any cure is possible.  It is not.  As long as I can avoid most of the pain, I consider my reluctant conclusion a tolerable result.

This bland medicinal account hardly signals the beginning of what has proven to be a spectacular Sunday.  But the unfrozen truth is that if one is removed from what is frankly the utter incapacity of constant pain, the universe is a very different place.  Though I have yet to resolve the intellectual significance of pain, I have no trouble accepting my removal from it.  Recently my entire being and performance has been clouded by perpetual discomfort. Part of the dilemma has been my protracted recovery from a recent bicycle fall but the overall unpleasantness has been promoted by a relentless anxiety from inescapable physical misery, a condition which succeeds to dampen any ardency I once had.  I mention this because I find it strange that the issue is not the inability to live like an 18 year old; rather it is the thorough displeasure of having to live with pain.  I have for example embraced that my bicycle is a 7-speed balloon tire number, not a Garlatti speed racer.  I don't regret that I can no longer do 50 push-ups or press a barbell.  But I do resent being unable to delight in a cup of coffee or a drive in my car.  Pain destroys everything, big or small.  No wonder therefore that when I awoke this morning without the customary gnawing pain in my limbs I adopted a very different posture about the unfolding day.  I won't say that I actually leapt from my lair but I certainly didn't drag myself across the floor while moaning.  A bit of stretching at the kitchen counter moderately improved the stiffness in my back.  Most importantly I found myself embracing the goodness of life generally, not paralyzed by a dreadful future of any description.

Because today is Sunday I immediately sought choral music, in this case a baroque composition made famous by both Claudio Monteverdi and Antonio Vivaldi, Beatus Vir in C Major.  This soothing creation accompanied my opening round of orange slices and banana with a cup of black coffee.  The sun shone brilliantly in the azure sky. There was the delightful smell of bacon and breakfast sausage cooking in the stove.  My English muffin was forked and ready for the toaster, peanut butter nearby.

Beatus Vir in C Major

It was a magnificent meal! Taste beyond compare! I had expiated my guilt at having missed a similar round at Rock-N-Horse farm yesterday.  But this morning I recovered my fondest memory of their superb bacon!  Oh my, what an absolute delight!

We hadn't however any intention to linger at table.  The beaming sunshine beckoned!  There was nothing which would diminish the unqualified appeal of this marvellous day.  We were soon prepared for the matutinal bicycle ride. Our journey this morning took us to the opposite side of the River, past the dutiful members of St. Paul's Anglican Church, along Spring Street into the new Riverfront Estates, around Orchard View retirement lodge and along Industrial Drive abutting the pastures of Ramsay Township.  Naturally our progress was routinely interrupted by conferences with those whom we encountered on the way.  We caught up on the gossip and shared the marvel of the day.

Although we allowed ourselves to drift quietly for a few moments upon returning home - relaxing in a comfortable chair with the pretence of reading an improving book - it wasn't long before we were on the go again.  This time the purported agenda was a drive in the country, perhaps a coffee at Neat Café in Burnstown. We ended by detouring to Renfrew to scope the place of an upcoming medical appointment but eventually made it back to Burnstown where we encountered not only one of the owners of the Café and two of his employees whom we also know but also friends from Almonte who were there with their two young daughters.  After cavorting with those people we sat outside in the shade and drank our cappuccino.

The drive home through the Village of Pakenham was as always perfectly charming, reminiscent of many good times we've spent in Renfrew and Lanark County over the years. It pleases me greatly that I have re-discovered my erstwhile fervency for life.