What a Drag It Is, Getting Old...
But first, a novel update:
Ahead of schedule! Let's just hope I can keep that going.
And now, to explain the title.
I don't think of myself as old. I truly don't. But sometimes one just has to realize that, although one may still harbor the delusion that one is just as vigorous and healthy as any 23-year-old, one is solidly middle aged. And one's body will be happy to let one know.
Lately, even as I'm trying o, so hard, to get back to the track and my running program ('cause let's face it, folks, if ya run 15+ miles a week, as I used to, ya have an easier time battling the poundage), my *bad* knee--the one with the 20+ year old aerobics injury--has started playing up again. I can walk on it just fine. I could probably run on it too, without pain (although I HAVE learned to avoid that particular error of denial over the years). But I can't bend it all the way back (so my ankle can touch my butt) without pain. This doesn't sound like a big deal, but to someone who likes to settle on the sofa with my legs curled up underneath me, it's annoying. And painful. And forget any quad stretches. While I can still work out (the Nordic Track does not seem to exacerbate this problem), I really miss running. And while I love the Nordic Track, it gets old if you do it every single damned day.
So I trot off to the doctor, who manipulates my knee, hears all the pops and skritches it makes (and has made for as long as I can remember--the cause of many gross outs for classmates in the days when we used to squat by our desks to get our stuff out of the cubby under the seat), and says that she doesn't think it's anything but a soft-tissue problem, but I'd better get it x-rayed just to be sure.
Now, arthritis is a legacy in my family. On both sides. My mom wins the prize: She is on her second set of knee replacements. She got the first ones so long ago that they wore out! I have expected the diagnosis since I first injured the knee, 'way back in Boston, 'way back when. I'm pretty sure what they'll find.
But I'm wrong. They don't find anything. Not the slightest, eensiest bit of arthritis. No problem whatsoever. So, despite the aches and pains, right now I have the osteoarthritis at bay. But I still have to go for physical therapy to have them assess what is causing the problem. I just hope they tell me I can still run.
Now, the next insult:
BRACES. As in ORTHODONTIA. Now, as one who suffered through two years of the metal mouth and at least four or so with the retainer (and never lost it until I tossed it out on purpose), I really don't relish this. But the perfect bite and smile my first round of braces produced is going haywire in the form of an ever-widening gap between the front teeth that used to be so jumbled and close that they overlapped. Not a huge gap, but a widening one.
So it's back to the brackets and the wires. At least this time they expect it to take only 8 months or so, and the metal bands have become a thing of the past. That front wire, though... And the cost... oh well, you can't take it with you, right? A week in Paris including airfare, or braces? In a perfect world, I could afford both!
At least I'll get to experience the joy of feeling smooth teeth again after they take the braces off--something I figured was only a sweet memory.
Perhaps it's not getting old that's the drag--it's the repeating some of the less than stellar aspects of youth.
Oh, yeah. And being far and away the oldest person in the orthodontist's waiting room.
Ahead of schedule! Let's just hope I can keep that going.
And now, to explain the title.
I don't think of myself as old. I truly don't. But sometimes one just has to realize that, although one may still harbor the delusion that one is just as vigorous and healthy as any 23-year-old, one is solidly middle aged. And one's body will be happy to let one know.
Lately, even as I'm trying o, so hard, to get back to the track and my running program ('cause let's face it, folks, if ya run 15+ miles a week, as I used to, ya have an easier time battling the poundage), my *bad* knee--the one with the 20+ year old aerobics injury--has started playing up again. I can walk on it just fine. I could probably run on it too, without pain (although I HAVE learned to avoid that particular error of denial over the years). But I can't bend it all the way back (so my ankle can touch my butt) without pain. This doesn't sound like a big deal, but to someone who likes to settle on the sofa with my legs curled up underneath me, it's annoying. And painful. And forget any quad stretches. While I can still work out (the Nordic Track does not seem to exacerbate this problem), I really miss running. And while I love the Nordic Track, it gets old if you do it every single damned day.
So I trot off to the doctor, who manipulates my knee, hears all the pops and skritches it makes (and has made for as long as I can remember--the cause of many gross outs for classmates in the days when we used to squat by our desks to get our stuff out of the cubby under the seat), and says that she doesn't think it's anything but a soft-tissue problem, but I'd better get it x-rayed just to be sure.
Now, arthritis is a legacy in my family. On both sides. My mom wins the prize: She is on her second set of knee replacements. She got the first ones so long ago that they wore out! I have expected the diagnosis since I first injured the knee, 'way back in Boston, 'way back when. I'm pretty sure what they'll find.
But I'm wrong. They don't find anything. Not the slightest, eensiest bit of arthritis. No problem whatsoever. So, despite the aches and pains, right now I have the osteoarthritis at bay. But I still have to go for physical therapy to have them assess what is causing the problem. I just hope they tell me I can still run.
Now, the next insult:
BRACES. As in ORTHODONTIA. Now, as one who suffered through two years of the metal mouth and at least four or so with the retainer (and never lost it until I tossed it out on purpose), I really don't relish this. But the perfect bite and smile my first round of braces produced is going haywire in the form of an ever-widening gap between the front teeth that used to be so jumbled and close that they overlapped. Not a huge gap, but a widening one.
So it's back to the brackets and the wires. At least this time they expect it to take only 8 months or so, and the metal bands have become a thing of the past. That front wire, though... And the cost... oh well, you can't take it with you, right? A week in Paris including airfare, or braces? In a perfect world, I could afford both!
At least I'll get to experience the joy of feeling smooth teeth again after they take the braces off--something I figured was only a sweet memory.
Perhaps it's not getting old that's the drag--it's the repeating some of the less than stellar aspects of youth.
Oh, yeah. And being far and away the oldest person in the orthodontist's waiting room.
posted by Cathy VanPatten at 2:27 PM
2 Comments:
Well, I HAVE the bifocals--and I didn't even need glasses until I was in my mid-30s. Foolish me, I thought that with presbyopia, I might even go back to 20/20. Delusion. Sheer delusion.
And yeah, I've got the number to call on the colonscopy too. Have had for more than a year. And a half. Probably should get it over with. Sigh.
Be of good cheer...you can both use words like colonoscopy and presbyopia intelligently, and that gives you a decided advantage over most of the populace.
Congrats on the novel progress, by the way. I'm a little ahead of my pace...but not enough to be comfortable with it. I hit 27k last night...it's rolling well because it's a good, linear story with action and plenty of dialogue. For some reason, when writing for speed, these things improve my odds...
David
Post a Comment
<< Home