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August 2, 2013 by Let's CUT the Crap! 52 Comments

And so it begins.

First my knees failed…no, not correct; they didn’t fail, they gave out on me. The smooth elasticity I’d always enjoyed changed to creaking not unlike a dull saw stuck in wet wood. No problems with mobility yet, I just can’t bend my knees and get back up again.

Later I developed a hole in my chin—not a physical hole you understand, but whatever’s happened I seem to dribble or drip, especially anything the least bit greasy. I’ve ruin too many new—yes new—tops to greasy spots.

I’ve been saving myself for this? I’ve been saving myself for retirement and seven years in, I win the ticket to fall apart?  Not on your life!

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

Thanks Alphonse Karr. It’s not just your name that hints you are obviously not a woman. What were you thinking when you said those words?

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I’ve changed in increments until I don’t know who the hell the woman in my bathroom mirror is, or where she came from. Eyebrows, skin tone and texture, and cheeks have all changed. I am not the same.

A new surprise awaited me yesterday. My daughter bought a truck a month ago. Something wasn’t right with the brakes. To get work done she we had to drive to the next city: on the highway; morning traffic; four lanes of crazy people (they’re always more high-strung on Thursdays); a zillion cars, trucks, vans and transports and everyone’s in a hurry because the weekend starts in one day. This is not just any weekend, but a long weekend. I had to tag along because the truck was to be dropped off for repairs and my daughter needed a ride to work.

I don’t do highways, at least not well. In a matter of life and death, I might manage a two-lane highway if it has ever been familiar to me. Unless, since the last time I’ve driven in the area, a recent town or suburb, or one of those mega malls has mushroomed, I’d be lost.

Microsoft Clipart

Bottom line is I had to follow my daughter and her truck. Traffic around me filled and faded, zoomed and whooshed, and I lost track of her truck. Transport trucks on either side of me, I couldn’t go around the guy who’d cut in front. Claws for hands, clutching the wheel till bloodless, I saw an opening. My retired brain has been in the slow lane for a while and I almost broke my neck twisting this way and that to gauge my entry into the new lane. I’ve no idea if I had sweat on my forehead or if the ceiling of my car had sprung a leak when the sky opened up to add to my anxiety.

Stop. Start. Traffic at a snail’s pace; traffic at breakneck speed. By the time we arrived at the garage, I wasn’t even a basket case (as the saying goes), I was melted brains on the front seat. I sagged and couldn’t move.

When had I turned into this wuss?

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.”

What a laugh. I’m so changed after yesterday, I’m never driving on the highway again; if it’s a matter of life or death, I’ll call a taxi…or a limo. And I will close my eyes because duty calls and I’ll get through it.

I didn’t stay the same. I quit the highway forever.

One more thing, at two o’clock I had to repeat the process in reverse. It’s a wonder I have any hair left.