Tuesday, February 21, 2017

From the Heating Pad

Recounting the unfortunate events of last Sunday and Monday, February 12th and 13th...

It is my second day of being forty-four and I am on the couch alternately applying heat and ice to my knee.  This is because on my first day of being forty-four I attempted something crazy.  Something no one my age had any business doing, evidently.

I tried getting out of my chair and standing.

Kapow!  Blam!  Zowie!  

Pain shot through the outside of my left knee.  Holy aging ligaments, Batman!  Why, why, WHY had I tried getting up without a chair lift?

I was unable to stand, probably due to my extremely low threshold for... er, ethereal sensitivity to pain.  (It's basically a superpower.)  You follow?  My leg did not work for a moment.  Then I hobbled around for the rest of the night and pretty much ever since.  I still don't know what I did, except get old.  

The same night as the chair incident I was perusing my phone with my glasses resting atop my head.  An uber-helpful co-worker asked, "Do you need bifocals, Bone?"  No, this is a fashion statement, I saw it on the cover of Geriatrics Quarterly.  Yes, of course I need bifocals! 

Also, we got new reference books at work with print so microscopic that in order to read it you need a frickin' electron microscope.  Or, average eyesight.  So I had to get another, much younger co-worker to read off some numbers to me.

This came on the heels of me having a grievous cold, my first time being sick in two or three years.  (I still blame the Tdap vaccination the pediatrician unceremoniously forced on me.)  It was the kind of cold that would have knocked an average person off their feet for up to a day.  I was off mine for two, proving yet again that I am not average.

To top it off, my reflux has been acting up, waking me a couple of times a week lately.  At least that'll make for a decent conversation starter down at the convalescent center.

If I were a horse, they'd have to shoot me.  Of course, if I were a horse, I'd be like a hundred and thirty in human years, which would probably be some kind of record.  So maybe they wouldn't shoot me.  I'd most likely be in some kind of equine museum, alongside Secretariat, Mister Ed (of course... of course), and a horse with no name.

How did this happen?  To me???  I was always the one getting the "Well you sure don't look that old" comments.  Just a couple of weeks ago, my 9-year-old niece informed me she thought I was twenty-nine, about to turn thirty.  And trust me, she's a great judge of all things.  (Is it any wonder I married into that family?)

I've most certainly always acted younger than my age.  Much, much younger.  I'm sure any of my ex-girlfriends would attest to that.  And have.   

But suddenly, I'm feeling every last one of my forty-four years.  And about thirty more on top of that.

Mrs. Bone has to be wondering what she's gotten herself into.  To her credit, she hasn't said anything.  Of course if she did, my aged ears probably couldn't hear her anyway.

"I wish I still smoked cigarettes / Felt more grown up then / We were talkin' about where we were gonna go / Instead of talkin' 'bout where we'd been..."


  1. Good lord forty four is old! I'll tell you how I feel when I get there later this year.

    Just wait until the little one goes to school and starts bringing back every conceivable contagion. That is when the real test of your immune system begins.

    I stood up twice now and tore the meniscus in my right knee twice now over the years. It causes a loud pop followed by pain that gradually gets better until the tear catches again and rips it some more. The only cure is to get microscopic surgery to go in and trim the ends off the tear so they don't catch anymore. Hopefully you just have a creaky tendon and not that.

    You know you are getting old when you get out of bed in the morning and sound like a bowl of rice krispies!

    1. Darn, Snap Crackle Pop would've been an excellent title for this post.

  2. Cry me a river. I'm 15 years ahead of you and I'm doing physical therapy for my bum knee, using an inhaler for "a touch of asthma" (that's a quote from my doc who, I strongly suspect, made this diagnosis and prescribed the inhaler to stop my whining and get me the hell out of her examining room). For my return appointment (I learned I was only allowed two complaints per visit) I got my ears irrigated and a skin tag removed. Age is a number, my friend. And beats the alternative.

    1. Two complaints per visit? I'll sure keep that in mind. At our age, that's sorta like being granted three wishes, eh? Gotta use them wisely.

  3. Okay, I just turned 60 last month; I ain't listening to this crap! And speaking of aching, until you snap a quad tendon, you haven't felt pain! But the eyes I agree with you on, for it was around the time (actually I was 46) when I could no longer read the fine print and had to wear glasses when reading or at the computer.

    Happy belated birthday, Bone, and I'll give you a virtual pat on the back, while saying, "just wait" :)

    1. My eyesight is fine... other than the fact I can't see things up close or far away.

      Chuckled at your "just wait" comment. I'm sure I'll cry about it later.

  4. happy belated birthday! you are not OLD!!!

    1. Oh and did you see that 3WW is 10 yrs old?? You should be proud. I started a local writing group way back and even with my absentteeism, it is still going strong. Some things are seeds that grow and I for one am glad I joined this 3WW network of writers and made a lot of like minded friends.

    2. Thanks, DP. I did see that! Kind of amazing. It was a pretty cool thing to be part of. Helped my writing tremendously, and yes, came across some interesting folks.

  5. I'm renaming myself.

    Also, pretty sure 3 months of no sleep has aged me a fair bit, so keeping any comments I might have otherwise made to myself ...

    What's the saying? You're only as old as you feel? Then we're both a lot older than 44 ...