I have a confession to make.
No, not the naughty kind. This confession has to do with getting old. I have written about growing old before but this is different. This is about expectations not met.
I thought growing old would be okay. Sure my body would be “lightly padded” and gently overworked. But people would call me “spry” and remark on how much energy I had.
Confession: I was wrong.
That’s big for me. “Wrong” is not a word I utter very often in the same sentence with “I”.
It seems that being the spry old lady who is a ball of energy is not in the cards for me. I have chronic pain.
Oh, I’m still active. I still ride my horse, do yoga and Qi Gong and garden but every activity comes with a price these days. Pain.
The real downside is I know that all of my aches and pains are the result of self-inflicted injuries I incurred in my youth and middle years:
- A knee that blew playing tennis just a bit too hard.
- The wrist I ripped the tendon off while lifting a very large piece of furniture (a granite-topped Hoosier cabinet) against my husband’s wishes.
- The foot I accidentally rolled over with a cabinet filled with dinner plates.
- The concussions (5 to date) I have had from everything from a roller skating accident to being thrown from my horse.
- The separated shoulder from hitting the racquet ball wall a bit too hard.
- The broken ribs (6) from riding, horse-play and just plain clumsiness.
- The sprained ankles (4 times) from tripping over a dog, running to tell a news crew to get going and cover the earthquake (a whole nother story) and falling down steps and up a hill.
Those are just a few of the ways I have insulted various body parts over my 60+ years. What’s funny is that I had my shoulder operated on in February and right now, it’s the best joint in my body.
Still, I will get up every morning – albeit a little slower – and put one step in front of the other all day long, despite the pain. Why?
Because I am still here, still able to get up, still able to gripe about pain while some of the people I love the best are not. And I am lucky enough to still be taking this ride we call life with the man I married 28 years ago…
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