Sounds of Life

With my sixty-first birthday skulking just around the corner, I find that I do a lot of thinking about my health. I retired six months ago, and my body tells me I didn’t go a minute too soon. I was a flight attendant for forty years, and though I still enjoyed the life that career offered, some days my body enjoyed the work—hmm, not so much. On those days I thought perhaps it was a job for a twenty-year old, (or even a fifty-year old), after all.

I don’t mean to whine, but I have lots of aches and pains, and I’ve been experiencing some typical age-related woes like arthritis, acid reflux, and hearing loss to name a few. Combine these with the wrinkles, sagging muscles, and gray hair, and I’ve got a genuine case of “maturity.”

Even with the age-related problems I do have, I know I’m lucky to be as healthy as I am. Besides, I’ve had an incredibly good life and lots of fun along the way. Recently I came up with an idea to try a new way to deal with the aches and pains. Rather than focus on the actual discomfort, I try to remember the cause of the ache or pain. In that way I'll be dwelling on something positive instead of negative—hopefully. We’ve all heard the saying that attitude is everything. I’ll give you some examples.

Care for some freshly ground pepper?

After a series of x-rays, my new chiropractor asked me how it feels when I turn my head from side to side. “It hurts,” I replied, “but that’s not all. It sounds and feels like a pepper mill turning back and forth.”

He smiled knowingly. “That’s the bone spurs and arthritis.”

“No,” I corrected. “That’s a ski trip to Mammoth Mountain in California with my husband and friends.” I was skiing like the wind down one of the intermediate runs when a teenage girl slammed into me from the side as she flailed her way backwards across the trail. When I came to, my friends were standing over me, asking me if I could move my toes. One of them was holding my hat which had blown off my head and landed about six feet away in the snow after my impact with the earth. I could not turn my head or bend my neck for several days afterward. I loved skiing with those friends during my thirties. We laughed and skied all day and laughed and ate and drank all evening, until we collapsed from exhaustion. No pain could make me regret those times together.

A ratchet is a good thing, right?

“What’s that tool you use that makes that clicking sound and what does it do?” I asked my husband.

“It’s a ratchet. It allows motion in only one direction, while keeping what you’re moving or turning from going back in the opposite direction,” he explained.

“Well, I think I have one in my knee from the sound of it.” I joked. Now, I’m thinking maybe that’s a good thing because I definitely don’t want my knees to bend in the opposite direction that I want to go.

I probably have my mother to thank for my gimpy knees, but the real trouble started in 1973 when I dislocated my left knee while opening a 707 aircraft door during emergency training drills. I’ll never forget that sound. It was like the sounds of a chicken being disjointed and deboned—only bigger, like a turkey or maybe even an ostrich. Those long days on the Mammoth ski slopes didn’t help, and the truth is I had to wear a knee brace to make it through the ski week. I try to think about Mammoth when my knees are acting up. I try not to think about evacuation drills and the sound of my patella being ripped from its little perch between my femur and my tibia.

Family fun.

At the ripe old age of 39, I gave birth to a handsome, nine-and-a-half pound baby boy. A couple of little problems have arisen from delivering such a big baby, but I can pick up remedies for those at the supermarket. Besides, hemorrhoids are quiet little pains in the butt.

My TMJ syndrome and occasional associated headaches stem from an incident when my son was about three. I had my very active toddler pinned between my knees to hold him still so I could dress him. Suddenly he jumped straight up and slammed his head into my chin. Inside my head it sounded like a large firecracker had gone off and I swear I saw flashing stars, too. Now when I try to take too big a bite and my jaw starts clicking like a ratchet wrench, it helps if I try to think about holding that little boy in my arms again and hugging the stuffing out of him.

OK, so it doesn’t always work.

Remembering the source of the ache doesn’t really make it go away, of course, but dwelling on the pain doesn’t help either. I’ve worked and played hard and perhaps recklessly at times. I’ve earned most of my aches and pains, but I wouldn’t trade the adventures and experiences for a lifetime of total moderation. These days my favorite old saw is the one about life being like a jar of jalapeños. What we do today may burn our butts tomorrow. We can’t live in a bubble, but we can take care of ourselves today so our tomorrows won’t have too many flare-ups.

Donna