After a day spent with doctors trying to find solutions to
ongoing pain, I realized that in addition to the back pain and the foot pain, I
am angry. I am angry that my body is
betraying me.
I’m that person who eats well, who exercised well until pain
took that away from her, who is relatively thin and looks fit and healthy, and who was
stopped in her tracks at a trade show this week in such searing pain that it
took my breath away and reduced me to tears for a bit. How can this be? Sure, I’m ageing, but this? Really?
I recognize I have little to complain about. I have great health care, and I know that I
will get to the root of this and solve it in time. None of this is life-threatening and for that
I am extremely grateful. But it is debilitating,
and gives me a bit of a preview of what life might be like in the decades to
come.
So perhaps that’s the source of the anger: betrayal at this
ageing of my body, a reality check with my own immortality. I don’t think of myself as older, but these
feet and that back just can’t do what they used to do. No sexy high heels. No fancy Pilates moves right now or Zumba. No favorite sleeping position.
Of course, I have managed to find a little consolation. It turns out that Jimmy Choo makes a mighty
fine motorcycle boot which works pretty well for these ageing feet and
feels pretty sassy. Smile.
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