As I contemplate what I was doing on this date 48 years ago, I realize that at 25 my life was just starting. Due to the fact that the stubborn little babe I carried refused to turn around and present head first, I was in the hospital awaiting a scheduled c-section. BTW he is still stubborn but still the joy of our lives.
The last few years as my pains and weakness has increased I’ve watched him age and would tell myself, “Self, you’re just getting old.”
Yes, I am. But I’m not that old. I’ve already lived longer than both my grandmothers. But I’ve had it easier than they did. Both were farm women who raised multiple children during the worst time of our history. The Great Depression.
I had pretty much just accepted the “you’re getting old” line until someone (thank you Dr. Sakruti) found a cause for me to blame my weakness on.
I really think this improvement in my energy and motivation is due to a lifting of a depression that I wasn’t aware of. I now have an enemy to conquer named Polycythemia, which is much better than the unseen and unconquerable “you’re just getting old.”