The Middle-Age Come-Apart

I turned 49 this year.

And then suddenly I seemed to fall apart.

Now I have more doc appointments than I have dinner dates. Now I show up early at medical professional suites to drop off or pick up tools and medications. Now I check and update "My Chart" every day. Now I think about my insurance deductible.

Now I think everything has changed.

I walk into my orthopedic office and I compare my limp and hobble to everyone else's. Well surely, I think, I'm walking better than they are.

I tell myself I don't need any sort of ambulatory device and that my problem is temporary as I lean on a rail, a step, a stump.....whatever can give me support as I try my hardest to stand for as long as I can.

I drag into my pulmonary appointments, which have nothing to do with my orthopedic problems by the way, and wonder if I'll be pulling an oxygen tank behind me one day like so many of the patients I see around me.

I try to make small talk with the sweet nurse lady conducting my breathing test. I see the abbreviation COPD on my file. I wonder, I say out loud, how a non-smoker can have COPD at my age? Could be lots of things, she says casually as she adjusts the mechanisms of the machine that will test my lungs. Lots of people get it from working in cotton mills years ago. Lot of nail techs and hairdressers. You'd be surprised.

I've never done any of those things. I keep that to myself.

All of this medical pain and suffering has caused me to reflect on my life though.

I never played sports or participated in any kind of "dangerous" activity. I started working when I was 16 years old and stood on my feet for 10 hour days. I worked in restaurants and managed young children as a college girl. I gave birth to a special needs child that required and continues to require ongoing care. I've always moved quickly on my feet, speeding around, sitting down very little, jumping up for every need. I've mowed the lawn, moved furniture, had rigorous sex, held difficult yoga poses, sat on the floor, carried heavy boxes, asked for very little help with all.....

Have I hurt myself unintentionally?

And all of these pains speak nothing to my faulty lungs.

There is no way the occasional cocktail cigarette put me in this COPD predicament. So I can't help but wonder if I just got lucky.

But lately. I'm wondering more and more often if I'm being punished for something.

Here I am. Age 49. Recent empty-nester. Divorced twice. Mother of a special needs child. Staring down the barrel of bad lungs and faulty left leg.

It's hard not to feel like something has gone awry.

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