Aging

 Most of the time I don't think much about my age. It's a fact but not one that seems to have much impact until something happens to remind me. That something recently was doing a lot of leaf blowing, climbing up a sand dune at the coast, some other physical things, and ending up with pain in the muscle on one side of my leg, right below the hip, where it attaches. I wasn't sure where the problem originated, but it was definitely interfering with my daily life. I was not only in discomfort but suddenly not walking right.

Because it didn't immediately go away I began to look at the possible reasons it happened. One of my legs is shorter than the other and years ago a structural masseuse told me that one hip and shoulder were higher (one foot 1/2 size smaller than the other). She felt she could fix the irregularities with enough adjustments-- painful ones. I talked to my chiropractor about it, and he didn't actually think it'd be beneficial at my age. In short, it could throw a lot of other things off in trying to do that.

There was another possible reason this was happening now. When I was in my late 30s I was throwing a bale of hay over a fence to our livestock and the way I twisted caused so much pain in my hip that I had to lie on a bale until the pain subsided. Now I wondered if that had left that joint weakened or susceptible to arthritis. In that region it's hard to tell from where pain originates.

For over ten years I have worn tennis shoes with gel inserts and that had let me forget about the finicky hip for a long time until now. In trying to figure out what this was I found out I could not, when lying on my side, lift that leg laterally up. The other leg could do it but not that one.

Well, I am back to walking normally but still have discomfort if I move wrong and if I am not careful, I end up with the knee hurting as the whole thing gets out of whack. It took weeks before I could finally lift my left leg laterally from the floor. Being unable to do it left me feeling like a bird with a broken wing.

What I think is that overdoing it when old is one good way to end up needing a joint replaced or a permanent handicap. There is the old adage-- if you don't use it you lose it, but what about overusing it when eventually cartilage and joints can wear out. It might seem great in old age to run marathons, etc. but is that a factor in so many aged having hip and knee replacements. Too much weight sure isn't helping my joints or muscles.

I think-- but am still figuring it out-- that it's finding the balance that is part of successful aging-- use it but don't misuse it. Eat it but not in excess and likely not as much or all the things that once were possible. Sugar used to be something I liked and now it's something that leaves me feeling less good afterward. And on it goes as I find new things about this business of being old.

Of all the things in life that fascinate me, I think aging is the greatest. It is so awesome/horrifying to realize how we change through the years and despite the talk of this or that to make someone stay young or age faster (when you are young), it all proceeds at a pace. It's kind of funny how some people talk about how they look younger as though it's a factor in it. It's not. We all are aging whatever we might think we look like.

When I watch a show like the History Channel's The Hatfields and the McCoys and see the characters' lives go past, there are the young, so strong and virile, then those same ones reach old age bodies. They live a life, if they are lucky, and they get old. The lucky ones reach that point. They change with the years.

I remember all my family members who are now gone and how they seemed to me and then what it was like as they aged into their last years. I see it in my pets. The young ones, the old ones, and the gradual changes.

Then there is my own body now 69 and heading toward 70. As astounding as what has passed is what lies ahead. I look at photos of myself as a child, then a teen, finally a young woman. pregnant, with small children, teens, an empty nester and who knows what's next. It's hard for me to believe those other people were me.

A few pieces of my own story up to now-- through photos.

And on it goes.