The Unexpected “Joys” of Aging

I’ll be 70 on my next birthday. That’s not until December, and it’s April at the moment, but it sounds so much more dramatic to say, “I’ll be 70” than to say, “I’m 69.” By the time my parents were my age, they’d been dead for at least a couple of years, so I’m happy to still be here, but I have to admit I wasn’t prepared for some of the changes the years bring. I read recently that 70 is now considered “middle aged,” but since I’m probably not going to live to be 140, I don’t quite understand that label. The next step is “elderly.” I don’t feel “elderly,” so maybe I’m just old. Whatever label I fall under, it feels like a bus. (Think about that for a minute. I think it works.)

I matured early and had to get used to my body doing different things. Just about the time I was comfortable in that body, I had two children, which changed my body again. I got used to that body and lived with it for many years, and then it changed again. I went through menopause in an hour and a half (it’s called a total hysterectomy,) and that actually was an improvement for quite a few years. From 50 to about 65, I was comfortable with my body. It wasn’t the greatest body in the world, but it was mine, and I knew it well.

About 66, things started to change gradually. I started making a noise whenever I sat down or got up. It wasn’t intentional; it just happened. It’s sort of a groan/sigh. It’s a sigh when I sit down, and an almost grunt when I get up. It happens every time, and sometime I almost scare myself, but I can’t stop it, because I’m not doing it…