Being over one hundred isn't what it's cracked up to be. That quote comes straight from a 102 year old friend of mine. No kidding. Being a couple of decades younger is no picnic in the park either. Take this week, for instance.
Being the only licensed driver in our family of two people, two cats and possible fleas, I have driven my husband to our cardiologist, primary care doctor, opthalmologist, neurologist and the local lab for vials of blood removed from his reluctant veins. This took up the first three days.
In the middle of these adventures I took our cat, Murphi to the vet for tests, and shots, leaving that office $252 poorer. The above paients are all snoozing today, which is being celebrated as Avoidance of all thing medical Day.
Besides, we need to rest up for tomorrow for a trip to an imaging center for a CT scan. Having looked at most everything else, Des will have his brain scanned. Hard not to make jokes about brain scans so I have surpressed my usual attempt at dark humor.
I should mention that at 6 a.m. yesterday morning I experienced rapid heart beats and body vibrations that lasted long enough for a phone call to my son, David. Took a nitro under the tongue, raced around the house to pick up debris lest I die and may be viewed as a very untidy person, God forbid.
Meanwhile, sitting in a chair in the living room that didn't vibrate even though I did, I contemplated what would happen to Des, the cats, their fleas, and cell phone that needed charging. Not to mention all the undone things plannd like making my blog into a book, reworking my 3 novels and flossingmy teeth with my new water pik.
Well, my body calmed down, I called David and told him not to come over after all, and i fixed breakfast for Des who woke up so we could head for the neurologist, who by the way, disabused us of the thought that dementia was in our future. After talking with Des he laughed at him and said, 'what - you are afraid of losing your marbles. No way. Don't worry abot that. You have lots more things to worry about.
I said to this neurologist in a challening manner, how do you know that? Because he is looking right at me, answering my questions appropriately and can remember, he said. We were relieved with his optimistic conclusion and we went off with a prescription to reduce Des' occasional jerks, and an appointment for a scan. The one about checking the brain.
Did I mention that next week, Des has laser treatment on one eye? Oh, and I did manage to go to a meeting of the writers club with week with pal Patricia, and tomorrow night I am going to the symphony with pal Donna. However, I nearly got kicked out of Chuck's Exodus class until I offered a ton of doctors excuses for my personal Exodus.
If this is what life is like in the eighties, I can hardly wait for the nineties. Maybe that won't be what its cracked up to be either.
So Says Sassy