Fifty- It’s Not for the Weak

I turned 50 on my birthday back in December.  I must say, it has been quite interesting so far.  My body does not really feel that much different than it felt at 35 or 40.  I can still get up off the floor without assistance, and my joints do not crackle and crack any more than they did in my 30s.  I started dying my hair and wearing oil of old lady creams way back in my teen years, so I had a good build up there.  Wrinkles have popped through, but they are the really tough ones.  I am quite certain that there is nothing that I could have done to prevent their appearance.  I have heard people my age say that they feel like they are still teenagers, or still 30-somethings.  I do not feel that way.  I feel like I have been alive for fifty years.  I have felt every single year.  Some have been good, some have been bad, but all have counted.  That’s not to say that I don’t want fifty more.  I will glady take as many more as God will give me, and apparently after one turns fifty, the healthcare system is very eager to assist with the quality of those years.

I went to the doctor last week.  The nurse was going over the usual litany of questions she asks before the doctor comes in, when she came to a new one.  Have you had any falls recently?  What?!  I looked at her and said, “I must really be getting old if you are asking me about falls!”  She laughed and said something about them asking all of the patients that question that now.  That was a big, fat lie.  I have never been asked that question before.  She was trying to sign me up for one of those necklaces with the button you push when you fall and can’t get up!

The next question was a flashing neon sign that indicates I have become a truly old person.  Have I had my colonoscopy yet?  I have been 50 for four months.  The tone of her voice made it sound as if I were really slacking off in the colonoscopy department.  She said I was eligible for the cute little at home kit that arrives in the talking white box, like on TV.  I have seen that cute little white box many times.  He goes to the beach, to the office, to the house.  He is so friendly and nice, and everyone is always so happy.  There is no prep and no doctor visit with the cute little white box.  Sign me up!  I was about tired of doctor’s offices by this time.  They were depressing.

The cute little white box arrived at my house just a couple of days later.  I bragged to my husband, because he had chosen to have his colonoscopy the traditional way.  (We truly are old people.  This is what we talk about while we eat dinner and watch Wheel of Fortune.  Soon I will be ordering my clothes and shoes out of the Sunday magazine section of the newspaper.)  It was a busy week, so it was a few days before I had time to open the kit and read the directions.  Omg.  First of all, I must compliment the writer on the thoroughness of the document.  It really left no questions unanswered.  A very vivid picture of exactly what was to happen was etched permanently into my brain.  Also etched into my brain were detailed examples of what NOT to do.  As I read through them, I could only think that these had to be included because so many people had done it that incorrect way so often that it became important enough to include it in the directions.  Did I mention that there were also diagrams?

I put everything back into the cute little white box and walked away for several days.  Getting old is really, really hard.  I have wrinkles.  I shouldn’t have to do what is in that box, too.  So, I carried on with my life.  But apparently the cute little white box had my phone number.  It started texting me to remind me that I should just get it done.  It was really just too much.  So, this weekend I followed the directions and got it done.  Then I had to take it to the shipping store to mail it back.  Quickly!  Within hours!  That sounded almost as uncomfortable as what I had just done.  Luckily, I went into the kitchen to tell Mark that I needed to go out for a little bit.  Mark, always trying to be thrifty, knows that me leaving the house rarely costs us less than $200.  He said he was going out anyway and offered to run my errand for me!  He had NO idea what it was.  Poor Mark.  I felt a little bit bad as I trotted off to fetch the box from the bathroom.  I handed over my cute little white box to him.  The look on his face was priceless.  But I will give him credit, he didn’t flinch.  He took it to the shipping store for me.

I really felt like I had moved past a major milestone of turning 50.  Now I could just move on with my life.  That was done.  Over.  Then I went to the pharmacy this week.  The lady checking me out had the audacity to ask, “Have you had your shingles vaccine?”

 

Share on
Share on facebook
Share on twitter
Share on linkedin
Share on reddit
Share on pinterest
Share on whatsapp
recent post
CATEGORIES
CATEGORIES