How much?


Me: There’s this high pitched ringing in my ear that doesn’t go away…it’s driving me crazy!

Nurse: Try this for a week.

A week! Forgive me if I start to just post Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz in future. I can’t hear much else. And insanity just around the corner has always been a danger for me….

Got outside the apartment for my physio appointment. A short span of fresh air did me good; I feel stronger mentally. Still the same physically – oh, with an added cough from the sinus spray they’ve got me on now (ugh). Today the winds are whipping and the rain pouring, so it’s a no-go zone for moi.

Heard from friends. Love them to bits for throwing me a life line when I needed it. Just a little direct contact means so much.

Feel a shift coming on. A life shift. It’s big, whatever it is. I hope it includes full acceptance of my age and physical capabilities. That’s what I’ve been struggling with. Being this side of cool. Let’s face it: I’ve never been here before and I don’t know how to handle it. My parents were two generations older than me and while they might have been cool at 20, they were already a long ways away from their coolness by the time I came around. My DNA siblings were never cool.

I did see a beautiful woman once, and it’s a memory I hang onto. She was old, older than old – full of wrinkles and sagging skin. And she stood proudly in the street, with her hair multicolored and a clubbing outfit hanging off her that probably should have been on a woman half her age. She defied me to see her. And I saw her. I saw her and smiled. Not because I thought she looked ridiculous. Not at all. It was because I was taking a picture in my head. I wanted to remember her always. That proud woman, thumbing her nose at every age convention. Yes, I thought. Now that’s something to aim for.

Oh, I want to be one of those people you hear about. Someone who skydives at 90 or runs a marathon or keeps their smile on no matter what misfortune befalls them. I fall short most days. There are still moments of energy and youth and optimism that burn so bright you can’t help but notice, but for the most part my feathers have lost their color and I have become a wallflower – passed by, and unnoticed. I know I’m mixing my metaphors. Who cares? I’m old enough to get away with a little madness.

I guess the only question remaining is: how much madness can I get away with?


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