Changes

I sat down to create a video blog this morning, but soon realized I didn’t want to do it. For the forseeable future I won’t be using video blogs anymore, but bi-monthly, written ones. If I feel the urge, or get a request to continue, I will do some videos again, but for now, no.  More on the topic at hand:  on Saturday I had tea with a friend I hadn’t seen in a long time.  We played catch-up and soon realized we were actually sharing changes that had taken place for each of us, changes that were either physical or mental, as opposed to relational. Afterwards I was somewhat surprised, but I think these conversations happen more frequently between those of us who are aging.  Since I’ve been writing about this topic myself over the past few weeks, I thought I’d give it another try from a slightly different perspective. On Saturday I mentioned that I had been to my marvelous , young female doc because of a burning sensation, as well as one of feeling stretched, the only way I could think of to describe it to her.  A few nights before some friends were over for dinner, and the wife described the very same thing, so I had a suspicion  about what was going on. Of course my doc checked,  and then concurred with my belief.  Sitting across from me on Saturday my friend smiled and said, “Yes, that happened to me too.  I ignored it until my yearly physical, when I was asked if I was uncomfortable.  I had small tears in my tissue, and was lightly bleeding.  I realized immediately why my doc told me I was fortunate that I had caught this early on –  I was merely uncomfortable!  Then one of us asked a question about an action group where we had met, and the other couldn’t remember the incident. That brought chuckles from us both.  Although with a more in depth review we realized this ongoing issue wasn’t really humorous. Now I just feel irritated when I forget something, and clearly so do my daughters,, though my partner is much more forgiving, perhaps because he forgets more these days as well, despite being nine years younger than I.  My friend has a fairly prestigious and important job in our little community, so her forgetting is more significant.  I suggested leaving little reminders on her desk, and then she started to say that she often couldn’t find them. I chimed in for the last few words and then we really laughed.  It is reassuring to know I’m not nuts, or losing it, but in a sense, both of us are.  Losing it.  Both of us have always had minds like steel traps, so this new phenomenon is doubly distressing.  We can make notes, look up synonyms in the thesaurus, or call a friend who may remember, but the problem remains. We forget more and more, and it’s not going to get better.  There is no medicine for memory loss. Much as I loathe medication and all the side effects, if there was a med, I’d take it and so would she.  So we find little tricks about remembering and try to cope with all this.  My friend and I hugged with great warmth, and  said goodbye as we each returned to our busy days.  Later in the afternoon, I realized I felt really sad.  I am not as I used to be, and that woman isn’t coming back.  More little ills will be coming my way by virtue of age, and perhaps some big ones.  Mortality is now an issue, though it wasn’t when I turned sixty.  Later when I returned to the market because I had forgotten something (no joke!) I ran into another woman I hadn’t seen in months, and almost didn’t recognize her.  Her face was puffy and she looked  much older.  She told me she was about to turn eighty-four.  As I drove away I thought ‘there is me in another ten years’.  Wow.  Talking and writing helps, but … wow.  Change related to age is really a bitch!