Last week a friend said that she had no idea that getting older would be so quick, so difficult. I thought, 'There are endless articles that tell you what to do. Haven't you read any?' They list necessary actions -- exercising daily, eating well, maintaining a decent weight, taking multi-vitamins, reducing stress. This is in addition to seeing a doctor every year, having the required tests, taking whatever medication is prescribed. Simple. I thought.
She has had a hip replacement and knee surgery and now thinks that she needs more. "But just a couple of years ago, I was walking the dog five miles a day."
The dog died.
Obviously the dog can't die when you're in your late sixties. Or you have to get another one very quickly. At least that's what I learned from our conversation.
But I realize now, starting this blog about what I think it's like to be sixty-eight, that those sparse recommendations are useful, but.......
For instance, the sentence that my gynocologist said when she wrote a prescription for hormone replacements lodged in my mind..."They preserve a layer of fat beneath your skin." I had no idea what that meant until I stopped taking them.
I was the last of my group to stop, since everyone read the nurses study. I was in a relationship and wanted the benefits so I decided I'd cut down, very slowly...
The relationship ended, alas, and I got off them, more than a year ago.
They, I have to admit, had to notice, provided a layer, a thin layer of fat, beneath my skin. That was my skin then, the skin I was used to. This new skin is quite different. It has the wrinkles of an older person and I don't consider myself old. I'm energetic, productive, interested, active, a type-a personality, furious that I'm not quite as agile as I was, but still going. What happened to my skin. It's not my face that bothers me so much, but my arms. And my legs. The strange wrinkles.
The only thing I can imagine is photographing myself during this transition, to what I don't know, but from what I remember.
