Uncle!

Well, I've bravely soldiered through the past week of this miserable cold. All the while telling myself that, no matter what seems to be going on in my sinuses, I'm helping my immune system by getting through this without the assistance of antibiotics. No doctor for me.

Really, a lot of people don't know this (of course my kids do), but I'm almost a doctor myself. I may not have had any training besides motherhood, common sense and life experience but I've made a lot of accurate diagnoses and prescribed many methods that have led to cures. So I wasn't irresponsible with my illness. I completely trusted myself.

I should have been suspicious that there was more going on than I was equipped to deal with when my condition continued to deteriorate instead of improve.

Finally Wednesday, I felt like there was something going on in my throat and by Thursday I could barely croak and most people who heard me probably wished I wouldn't try.

Friday, I felt something unpleasant and heavy in my chest and I began to get a little nervous. I knew it was time to cry 'Uncle!' but, frankly, I felt so miserable that I didn't really want to go to the doctor if I could avoid it, so I prescribed myself more water and more sleep.

I went back to bed and when I woke up, I felt much, much worse. Now I knew something had to be done. I was just lucky to get into the doctor on such short notice and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have if I hadn't sounded so terrible croaking out my symptoms on the phone.

They set an appointment and I mustered the energy to go because I had no choice. Yep, good thing I went in. I had a sinus infection (that I had diagnosed correctly) and the beginning of bronchitis (and that's something that people my age should pay attention to).

So the doctor prescribed six little pills to be taken over the next six days. Hopefully they'll work miracles because I'm pretty sure I need one.

As I left the office though, I commented to the receptionist that I had felt so confident that I would fight this off myself and she sympathetically reminded me that as we get older, our bodies have a harder time with these things. Hmmmmm. I honestly hadn't thought of that.

It's funny that no matter how old I get, I see myself from the inside looking out and I forget about my age all the time. Other people see me from the outside looking in and they NEVER forget about my age.

I wonder what I could do about that.

You Can Call Me Anything

But don't call me Young Lady.

I was shopping at our local big box discount store yesterday, when I stepped on a sheet of wax paper. It was slippery so I picked it up to keep someone from actually slipping and falling on it. I looked for a waste basket or an employee and saw an employee first. I explained that I had just slipped on the piece of paper and asked if there was a place to dispose of it. She took it from me and went behind the counter of the bakery to throw it away. As she came out, one of the bakers must have asked why she was back there and she replied that she had thrown away a piece of paper that this young lady had slipped on and she gestured toward me.

At that time I would have loved to gesture back but I'm too polite for that kind of nonsense.

So what's my beef? I've tried to explain it again and again to my husband and my kids but I have a hard time justifying how riled it gets me when someone calls me "young lady".

Why do they do it? The closest I can come to a comparison is calling a very obese woman skinny. "Yeah, I just went back there to throw away a piece of paper that Skinny over there said she slipped on".

Is it sarcasm. Or is it meant to be kind or give me a lift when someone calls me young lady? Because the message I get is, that old lady over there must be so miserable to be that old that I should try to cheer her up by calling her young lady. That'll make her feel better. Well it doesn't. All it does is say, the one single important thing that I notice about you, lady, is that you're really really old.

And I probably am. I'm 63 as it says in my header, but I'm okay with that. I like my age. I garden, maintain a koi pond and a goldfish pond, I usually try to walk about six miles a day, I mow the lawn and I don't use a cane. I'm not bragging about those things, I'm just pleading that there's more to me than my age. I don't think about it constantly and I don't want to be identified solely by that. It's just not fair.

To be honest when I was in my fifties or so, I think I would take it as a compliment. I think I tried to persuade myself that someone did see me as a young lady (actually the fifties are young and I know that now).

But I've spent the last 14 years working outside in the sun and believe me, nobody is going to mistake me for a young lady.

How Long Is Too Long?

I had an appointment with my doctor today at 1:30. I left work plenty early because I knew that this doctor triple books every appointment. I raced home, changed clothes, and hurried off to my appointment. The person who set the appointment told me that 1:30 was the first appointment after lunch so there shouldn't be a long wait. Still I knew about the triple booking and that the first one there for each appointment was the first one seen. Unfortunately I ran into some delays because of road work on the 2 lane highway I had to take. But still, I signed in at 1:29. On time but probably not the first of three people with 1:30 appointments. After not too long, I was called back, weighed, my blood pressure was taken, and I was told that it shouldn't be too long. At 2:45 the doctor finally walked in. By that time, I was cold and disgruntled. I had put my coat back on and was contemplating at what point it was time to find a different doctor. Prior to this one, I had gone to the same doctor for twenty years or so and we completely understood each other. Occasionally I would have to wait for extended periods of time to be seen but not often.

This doctor just didn't seem to care about me as a person or even a patient. I felt like he cared about me as a source of income.

As I sat in that little, chilly waiting room waiting for the doctor to come in, strange and unwelcome thoughts started to wander through my mind. Was I the least important of all the people he was going to see? Was I the most easy going so that he could count on me to not be angry? Or does age come into play? Maybe it was more important to keep young people healthy. After all, at 62 I'm probably on the downhill slide no matter what we do. I knew better, but as I said, unreasonable, unbidden thoughts entered my mind. The appointment was completed. The doctor gave me the time I needed and I was satisfied with the decisions that we made together about my healthcare. But I have to ask. How long really is too long to wait for the doctor?

HOT and SPICY!!!!! Say What?

Two days ago I was getting ready to take my morning break. Taking a break like this is kind of new to me so I planned ahead. I'd take it in a grocery store with a coffee break area for the public. Usually I have an orange (in my new, gluten free diet - more about that another time) but today I thought "I SHOULD HAVE A V8!!!". My son, Dan, kind of turned me on to V8. He drinks a large glass every day not only because it tastes good but especially because it's equal to 2 servings of vegetables. So I found the juice aisle and the V8 right in the middle of it. And I was happy to see that they had these handy little six-packs. One can would be just right for my break! So, I bought the six-pack and a newspaper and found a place to enjoy a little down time.

As I scanned the front page of the paper, I absent mindedly opened the V8 and took a drink. Hmmmm. It started to dawn on me that it tasted kind of....peppery? How peculiar. Then I looked at the can right in front of me and saw it. It screamed HOT AND SPICY!! I couldn't believe it. It might as well have been a billboard. And now I felt self conscious. Here I was ... a 62 year-old with Hot And Spicy right in front of me. My mind conjured up pictures of flamenco dancers with smokey HOT SPICY eyes and naughty movies with HOT AND SPICY titles. I wondered if it looked like I thought I was hot and spicy or if it looked like I was looking for hot and spicy

I mused about it throughout the day. How could I have missed HOT AND SPICY right there at eye level in bold letters? Who doesn't notice HOT AND SPICY? Then I berated myself because obviously my eyes were failing and/or I was getting confused and oblivious to what's right in front of me.

After work, in the privacy of my own home, I took out the can to try to figure out how I could have missed something so obvious. And guess what? I just missed it, that's all. It was there but it wasn't in neon. And it didn't say HOT AND SPICY. It said spicy hot. Big deal. Nobody was wondering what that old lady was doing with Hot and Spicy or anything else.

And it occurred to me. Am I creating my own reality. Do I think people see me as different and "old" because that's how I see myself? Maybe people aren't that hard on us oldsters. Maybe we're the ones that are hard on ourselves......

Oh...and for the record, V8 is really VERY good in regular ..... OR Spicy hot!