Aches and Pains

Seems that during this supposed midlife i have been fighting surrender on tons of fronts.

But lately, I’ve been at the losing end.

For instance, I have a bum left knee. I 1st complete one thing was wrong a touch over ten years past, whereas visiting Paris. It was my 1st European trip and that i was firm to not let something ruin it. Not the torrential rain we had. Not the record cold temperatures. Nothing. Not even the fact that we went to the Louvre on the one day it was closed.

A few days into the trip, my knee gave me a sudden, sharp jolt midway down a steep set of subway steps. And it continued to ache throughout the rest of my trip, but I managed to mostly ignore it, instead choosing to concentrate on the buttery croissants and bottles of sumptuous red wine.

By the time I got home, croissants and resveratrol behind me, the knee screamed out to be front and center. No longer ready to ignore it, I made an appointment with a specialist, who, after reading the X-ray, told me that I had “worn cartilage.”

I thought back to my days on the front lines of aerobic and step classes, questioning my judgment. But, once you are young and agile, you think your body parts will last forever.

“If you were ten years older, I’d call it arthritis,” the doctor solemnly uttered.

At the time, I did not see the sense in that—but currently that over ten years have passed I understand that he was attempting to conciliate Pine Tree State. Why upset Pine Tree State with the bitter truth before my time? And in secret, I am unable to deny feeling a touch relieved—his inoffensive selection of words soothed Pine Tree State.

When folks checked out Pine Tree State dubiously if I limped once my knee acted up (I may go an honest while in between flare-ups), I’d simply shrug it off and say, “Oh, just some worn cartilage,” and I’d nonchalantly carry on.

But currently that ten years have passed, and my knee acts up more than it behaves, I’m trying to come to grips with certain truths about aging. Like, perhaps it is time to surrender and stop with all the euphemisms. Maybe it is time to prevent living in denial and settle for what’s.

And yet, I refuse to abandon exercise as a result of if i do not move my body—even if it hurts to maneuver it sometimes—I can exit of my mind. I’m the type of one that must be in motion; if truth be told, I probably would do better on a treadmill desk than squirming in my chair all day while attempting to target my writing and ignore my sore butt at a similar time.

Now once I exercise, I wear a stretchable brace (that is, when I remember to put it on). And once you board Associate in the Nursing residence you cannot hide abundant. When I wear shorts with my brace, my neighbors notice.

“What happened to you?” 15C asked.

“What’s wrong with your knee? Skiing accident?” inquired the tenant who recently moved into 8A.

If only.

“Oh, just an old pesky injury,” I answered.

And then I nonchalantly limped on, similar to in Paris.

Only this time I could no longer indulge in buttery croissants and gulp gallons of red wine without thinking about the consequences.