Life as a bull in a china closet

In 1834, Frederick Marryat’s novel “Jacob Faithful” first recorded a phrase that has been a constant in my life: bull in a china shop. It referred to an extremely clumsy person, one who in moving through a living room filled with delicate furniture and knickknacks was made to feel like a bull in a china shop.

If you’ve ever seen me maneuver through any variety of environment, you’ll understand why the tag was assigned early and stuck.

However, in our family the phrase morphed into “bull in a china closet.” It also took on a broader meaning. In addition to referencing my clumsiness, it speaks to my need to barrel through life in a completely unorthodox manner, taking no prisoners, and fearless with unconscious abandon. In other words, on any given day all bets are off. It’s been my norm since early on.

Take the fence my folks installed when I was tiny, tiny. They bought it because it was guaranteed to be childproof. No child was supposed to be able to climb it, yet the first thing I did was climb right over it and take off down to Rose Oil for a Coke. Oh, to have been a fly on the wall when my mom got that call. Then there was the bottle. Mom bought a specific brand marketed as “drip-proof.” Guess what happened right off the bat? You got it, I dripped the entire thing. No mess averted. Such has been my lot through life. And through the years, I’ve gotten quite comfortable in my role as one who embodies the unexpected.

Like when I played high school basketball. I could barely stretch to five-foot-two but against all odds, I had the highest vertical jump of anybody on the team. Of course at my stump-of-a-height I wasn’t in any danger of out-jumping a six-foot center. But my coach scratched his head more than once over what appeared to be springs in my stubby legs.

Physical anomalies would continue. My simple, run-of-the-mill cataract surgery completely reversed my 20-20 vision.

Beforehand, I only needed glasses at the computer. Now I need one pair of glasses for normal activities with a completely different pair required for reading. The fact that I’m sitting at the computer typing this without any glasses just verifies that I’m capable of the unforeseen at any given moment. Just ask my orthopedist.

I was getting out of the pool and discovered what seemed to be a grapefruit on my knee. Typically, I had no idea what I’d done — did I mention I barrel through life like a bull in a china closet? But I knew if something was wrong, I had the innate ability of making it completely worse.

So, after a quick call to my bone-master, I was whisked in to see him. When he asked what in the world I’d been doing, I admitted to just exercising in the pool like he’d suggested. And then he asked the strangest thing — “Were you kicking too hard?” Dumbfounded, I replied “Is that a thing?” His response — “Well, we are talking about you.”

Interestingly, I had another doctor say the exact same thing to me this summer. Aware of something unusual with my shoulders, I once again feared something had gone awry. And if I didn’t pay attention to it, well, I might tear something up worse.

As he sat reviewing my x-rays, he emitted an occasional “hmmmmm.” After pressing him to see what was going on, he just laid it out there.

It seems I no longer have a rotator cuff in my right shoulder yet still have a full range of motion. Startled, I repeated “Is that a thing?” His answer? You got it — “Well, we are talking about you.”

So maybe being a bull in a china closet isn’t the worst thing in the world. Sure, there have been surprises along the way. And it’s been messy. But it seems things have worked out okay.

At least for today. Who knows what tomorrow has in store. Or what I’ll do next.