Human Being or Human Doing? by Mary Gelfand

As a cis white woman in her mid-70s, with a family history of arthritis, I am sometimes confronted by various challenging questions that I prefer not to explore. Who am I if I can’t take care of my basic physical needs? Do I have value if I can’t do my fair share of the household tasks? Who am I if I can’t contribute to my communities? Who am I if I can’t ‘do’? Can I learn to just ‘be’?

These questions swirling around in my head are indicative of the fact that, despite my best efforts, I am still shedding the ubiquitous patriarchal conditioning that tells me I have no value or worth unless I can do—something. Traditionally that something was bearing and raising children, cooking and cleaning house, making and mending clothing, growing food. I have long felt that I must ‘do’ in order to earn my right to inhabit this planet.  Patriarchy tells me I am only valued to the extent I am productive. As my body ages, being productive becomes harder. Many women struggle with these questions daily, especially older women like myself. And no doubt some men as well.

Recently I have been forced to confront these questions head on as X-rays revealed a total absence of cartilage in my left shoulder. All movement was bone on bone and very painful. I developed an acute appreciation of all the things shoulders do. Alternative therapies didn’t really help and my doctor recommended total replacement—an idea that filled me with dread.

Now I’m no stranger to joint replacement surgery as I’ve had both knees and one hip replaced. But shoulder surgery is considered by many the most painful joint replacement, with the longest and most challenging  recovery. My mental health therapist called it brutal. 

I’m one of those older women who likes to have busy hands and a project to work on. I knit and weave, garden, wash dishes, create art, engage with my women’s group, volunteer at church, teach feminist theology to women, and occasionally preach. This is part of my identity—part of who I am. This surgery challenged what I defined as a fundamental aspect of my identity. 

When your shoulder is replaced, you lose use of that arm for several weeks. There are innumerable things you can no longer do for yourself, including anything that requires two hands, such as showering, pulling up your pants, opening a jar, handling a book, buttering a slice of toast, knitting. The list seemed endless. 

As the pain became more or less constant, I made the hard decision to undergo the surgery. I’m blessed with a loving, nurturing spouse who cooks, and a daughter willing to move in and be part of my support team for a couple of weeks. 

In the months leading up to the surgery, as I obsessed about not being able to ‘do’ anything, my minister friend, my therapist and my spiritual advisor all urged me to look for the lessons to be found in this period of inactivity. I have to say I didn’t really expect to find any, but the idea gave my mind something to think about during the endless hours of sitting and doing more or less nothing. As I struggled to accomplish the simplest physical task and inwardly railed at my disability, I also observed my behavior in a new way.  My human advisors were right. There were lessons here for me and possibly for others.

Here is the condensed version of what I learned.

1:  It is okay to ask for help. This was and continues to be my hardest lesson. If I can find a way to do it for myself, I will. But I’m also learning to open myself up to the vulnerability involved in asking for help. Never have I asked and been denied.

2:  Just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should or must.  About three weeks after the surgery, I realized that I could get my outside shoes on my feet for myself without having to ask for help. But I also discovered that doing so created a new pain in my shoulder. Pain avoidance was one of my primary directives from my physical therapist at that point so I put my shoes down and began practicing discernment. It was another three weeks before I could put my shoes on pain free.

3):  Just because it feels like I’m doing nothing doesn’t mean that is true. I am healing and that takes time and energy. This lesson was especially important for shoulder surgery as I spent a lot of time sitting or resting, and it helped to label that healing. Whereas people six weeks past knee surgery are fairly mobile and mostly finished with physical therapy, when I hit the six-weeks-past-surgery mark I was finally told I could begin using the arm more, but not to lift anything heavier than a cup of coffee.  Last week, at three months post-surgery, I was finally able to begin strengthening exercises. Like I said earlier, a long slow recovery.

4):  Celebrate small accomplishments. For the entire first week after surgery, I lived in a sling which strapped my left arm around a wedge designed to keep the shoulder in the correct position for healing and bound to my body. My left hand felt remote and unattached. Therefore, it felt like an accomplishment when, towards the end of that week, I was able to put my cell phone into my left hand and carry it to another room. I was almost giddy at this accomplishment. I knew it was small, but it felt like progress.  It was my first lesson in the joy of noticing and celebrating small victories.

I also learned something more ephemeral. I learned that I am still myself even if I can’t wash my hair, make my own lunch, or handle a book. I am able to express gratitude. I can carry on intelligent or amusing conversations. I can still pray. I can see and appreciate beauty. I can still love. So while losing the ability to ‘do’ for a while challenged my concept of who I am, it also forced me to see past the superficial nature of my self-definition as a woman who does things. I am more than what I can ‘do’ and my essence has not changed even though my body has. 

Blessed Be.