I know what it's like to be old . . . . but only temporarily!

Those of you who know  me, know that I am a pretty energetic individual, although a little on the chubby side.  I can thank a cantankerous thyroid for that.  I am about to break my Number One Rule of growing older—-DO NOT TALK ABOUT MY AILMENTS.  I’m breaking my rule, because I want to show you something–share something with you, unless for some unfortunate reason, you are already in this season of life.

Know this:  I thank God almost daily for my great health.  With a father who had a major coronary at 50, in spite of the fact that he was not over weight, did not drink or smoke, and was active.  And a mother who had severe rheumatoid arthritis diagnosed at the age of 39, and eventually developed heart disease.  This is sounding so morose, but they both died of heart disease related complications in their early sixties.  So, like I said.  I thank God for my good health every day, and I don’t knuckle under to any of the little aches, pains, twitches, and glitches.   Until last week.  Oh, and it takes a lot to rattle my cage or scare me.  But last week, I was very frightened by what happened to me.

And I’m still not ready to talk about it all, because that is how I overcome and not go totally under the circumstances.  I feel if I talk about this too soon, it will get a grip on me, and I will succumb to the idea that these headaches might not be caused by the “unfinished” root canal.  My mantra:  “The tooth is causing the headaches.  The tooth is causing the headaches.”

As a result of all the indiosyncracies that are me, I don’t like to take medication.  I have taken more medication per day in the past 3 weeks than I like to think about.

Let me continue to break my main rule.   For the past three years, first thing every morning, before I can even have a sip of juice, or coffee, or tea, I have to take thyroid medication.  Then I have to wait an hour before I drink anything other than water or eat.  That was easy enough.  I had it down pat.

Then last Thursday my doctor added two medicines–one taken four times a day and the other twice a day.  Now I’m up to 8 pills a day.  Being so unaccustomed to taking medication reglarly, I found it quite disconcerting that I could not remember how long it had been since I took the last “four-hour pill”.  That is one that has a warning about not taking too many or I might stop breathing.  So I told myself to put a pad in the kitchen with a date chart so I can write down the time I took each pill.  I’m so busy, that I still hadn’t done that when my memory failed me again last night.

At the end of the day, I could not remember if I had taken 3 of those or 4.  So, I resorted to this little item that guarantees that I have now entered the geriatric generation.

It’s temporary.  It’s temporary.  It’s temporary.  After I get the echo cardiogram Monday and they see how strong my heart is; and after the root canal Tuesday releases me from the headaches, my little pill box will be back down to Thyroid only.

I will be back in mid-life and doing all I can to not join the ranks of geriatrics for at least 15 years!   Thanks for being optiimistic with me, and remember the mantra!!!