A title is everything

I learned to slow down.
I was injured 
Like I'd never been.
The hand sagged 
At my side when I walked

Like a sad impish retiree,
Swollen, the knuckles 
Displaced 
And the fingers unusually 
Fat,

Not like the long musical 
Things they once had been.
An ugly thing 
To look down and see.
The other hand 

A reminder of how 
When things were well 
I should have known 
They weren't as bad 
As I made them out to be.