Crumbling Monuments……

Many of the lovely people who read my blog, already know, I suffer with very painful hips. Well – it`s now official, I have arthritis in my hips, pelvis, pubis and lower spine. Who would`ve thought you could have an arthritic pubis! Hah! It doesn`t bear thinking about…..

My G.P. the wonderful Dr. Cameron (would you be wanting a nice cup of tea Dr. Cameron?) asked me how I manage the pain so I told him, “gin and tonic Dr. C.” A little smile played about his face.

Actually I have been doing what most of us try, I`ve been taking copious amounts of Ibuprofen with the accompanying possible side effects of bleeding of the stomach lining, liver damage and sudden death, or Paracetamol which don`t do a thing for me, or Co-codemol which makes most people extremely constipated. I`m full of s**t as it is without aiding it further so although they are marvellous at killing the pain, I keep them for the really bad times and stick with the G & T.

Dr. Cameron has suggested I lose weight. He says that even 7lbs weight- loss will make a tremendous difference so if I can lose the four stone of excess I am carrying about, who knows what may be possible. I could become a ballet dancer, or a deep sea diver! But seriously, I really must do as he says because being in constant pain is very debilitating, it brings me down and makes me feel tired almost all of the time and quite frankly, I`ve had enough. I do not wish to remain (as my dear cousin Julia recently put it to me) but a crumbling monument of who I was and there is nothing to be gained by feeling rotten yet be unwilling to do anything about it.

So – here we go day one. I`ll keep you posted and goodbye dear friend, (that`s sad isn`t it, giving alcohol a persona…..)  and hello honey and cinnamon in a nice cup of hot water – super!

 

On being sixty one…..

I hit my sixties nearly two years ago and unlike previous decades, the best of which was definitely my fifties, I am really beginning to feel my age and I am becoming increasingly aware of my mortality as in, “shit – only another twenty odd years left, where the hell did that go?”

My body is falling apart – the proverbial has finally hit the fan.

When I get up in the mornings, my ankles hurt, my knees hurt, my hips hurt and until I get going I struggle down my steep stairs to the kitchen feeling more like I am ninety five never mind sixty one. Ibuprofen has become my BFF still – at least my friends have stopped telling me I`m a hypochondriac. When I walk my dog, my back hurts. Thank God for park benches.

A friend I hadn`t seen for a long time recently asked me how I was. I said, “Well – apart from the high blood pressure, arthritis, cataract, increasing deafness, tinnitus, carpel tunnel syndrome and a tendency to store water in my body which eventually results in my feet looking like cartoon feet, I`m bloody great thanks, how are you?”

My age has defined me by the changes I have made to my choices. I no longer feel the urge to break the speed limit when I am driving, I don`t hang out of the car window anymore and shout, “you stupid wanker!” to stranger drivers who have cut me up. Having been single for two years I find to my surprise that I can actually survive reasonably happily without sex in my life, something I never would have accepted even a few years ago. (I can live without sex but not without my Kindle, ha ha ha.)

Now it doesn`t bother me so much that I remain overweight and I buy clothes and shoes that are comfortable rather than fashionable. I don`t care if my lumps and bumps show. Hey – that`s me you`re looking at.

I do a lot of word searching, I say things like, “you know, thingummybob, what`sisface, oh it`s on the tip of my tongue, if I don`t think about it it`ll drop into my mind….. ”

I suppose there are some benefits to being in my sixties, for example, I can invite my friends round for a dinner party and I don`t have to knock on my neighbours` door and say, “we`ll be turning the music down at twelve.” I can say “no thanks” to invites and events that I don`t wish to attend and when anyone asks me why I can say, “because I don`t want to go. I`m getting old!” Hah!

My daughter recently brought it home to me that I am in my sixties when she sent me a text at 9:30pm which read, “mum are you still up?”

Party on.