The big 5-0 hit several months ago, but I'm just getting damage reports from the medical profession--high blood pressure, high cholesterol, borderline glucose levels. Plus the hormonal chaos that goes along with what is laughably called menopause, meaning what has been as predictable as the tides for the past 39 years is now--ahem--not predictable anymore. I don't need surgery, but I'm facing a choice of several unpleasant alternatives. All have nasty words associated with them, like ablation, and stirrups, and some discomfort. Not to mention the lecture on diet and exercise (I know, I know, and I don't even really mind the lecture, it just makes it hard to face going back after hearing the same lecture last year).
So, enough pills to supply half my day's nutritional needs all on their own every morning, swimming at the BYU pool, and riding my exercise bike every day. There is still hope. And I guess the two hemiplegic ladies I see for psychotherapy twice a week at the care center (stroke victims) are a reminder as well. Getting old is actually not so bad, given the alternative--death in childbirth, a couple of centuries ago. I'd lots rather see my grandchildren grow up.
*Phrase stolen from the Vorkosigan books by Lois McMaster Bujold, my favorite space opera series of all times. Start with Cordelia's Honor and work forward.
1 comment:
this makes me start to agree with Brett and his statements of getting old, "the day I start trickling is the day i'm going to stop wearing my helmet." getting old is scary. good luck, mom.
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