Being Old

Many of my habits of daily living resemble those of the elderly. I am a prolific knitter and eater of digestive cookies; I enjoy wearing floor-length flannel nightgowns (the epitome of sexiness) to bed; I go grocery shopping at least five times a week, purchasing just a few items each trip; my favourite flavour is, as previously discussed, bland; I like to talk about the Great Depression and World War Two.

So maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that my body’s decided it’s eighty-two, not twenty-eight.  I’m starting to think that I’m a female Jack, as per that cinematic masterwork.

There’ve been hints of this for years. When I was sixteen, I broke a hip slipping on ice. Bone scans have revealed that I have some osteoporosis, for which I consume significant amounts of yogurt and take calcium supplements. I have horrible circulation. And yesterday I found out that I have cervical osteoarthritis, which, according to the Holy Internet Authority, WebMD, “usually occurs in middle-aged and elderly people.”

Not a big deal, really. It doesn’t hurt, but I’m supposed to wear a neck brace a few days a week, for now, to aid with nerve damage or something (I don’t know… I wasn’t paying attention).

Me with my cervical collar. Is it just me, or does that sound like a birth control method?
Me with my cervical collar. Is it just me, or does that sound like a birth control method?

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s