Measuring your life

I’m beginning to believe that post-45, I could easily measure my years in ailments – there was the year I injured my piriformis, then the year I had carpal tunnel, then the bunion and hammer toes and resulting bunionectomy and toe surgery, then the tennis elbow, then the other side of my back with the nondescript knot that is either arthritis or too much Pilates, now it’s the thumb. Of course. My thumb which is used to text, to mouse, to pick up my nearing 22 pound son is falling off my hand.

As we sat on the porch the other day – Tatjana with her knee brace, me with my thumb brace, and a 14 month old toddler between us – I thought we looked like a visual definition of OLDER PARENTS.

Only I am happy to report I then saw a friend decades younger with a new baby and she too looked wrung out. So maybe it is just PARENT.

2 Responses to “Measuring your life”

  1. Alice Says:

    Okay, Rachel, one disease/or calamity a year. I’m going to the bank with it! I’ll have to think back over the years and see if I’m about par.

  2. Rachel Says:

    Someone told me that your 40s are all about working, your 50s about your health, and your 60s you can’t remember so it doesn’t matter. Ha!

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