on aging gracefully

it's been a theme for a while now. probably i discovered it when i discovered shari. it spiralled from there.

being an old lady, i mean. in some ways, the planning for instance, its a joy. during the bliss of last summer on our porch onbolton avenue, shari and i would sip coffee, smoke cigarettes and plan for the future in which we would wear sun hats, drink juleps, and pinch the butts of the boys who delivered our groceries. all of us have been joking about it for a while now. forgetfulness would cause me to remind everyone around me that your mind starts it's downward spiral at age 20.

sometimes, playing into the stereotypes is entertaining. i drink maker's up whenever i can (especially when its hot outside). i get cranky when my routines are interrupted. i love my cat more than is probably normal. i stash away plastic shopping bags and empty coffee cans (although not my nail clippings, not yet).

sometimes, the fun wasn't there. an incident in the recent past illustrates this: i am frantically, furtively making out on a couch with a boy i've liked for a long time, we are both hoping that no one walks in on us. i slip into his lap, knees on either side, and in the time it takes him to get my shirt off, my right hip has slid so uncomfortably out of joint that i have to lay down.

"uh, what's wrong?" he asks, a little confused (things are just starting to get good, see).

"well, my hip. i need to pop it back into place."

and i get the shit from most of my friends, because they do tend to be a little older than i am. and i understand that at 24, i have little to complain about. i'm healthy, my skin is soft. a legacy of good genes and a lingering teenage tendency to avoid the sun has left me pale and without wrinkles. i fight the good fight - creams and sunscreens andjackie o glasses - hoping to stay this nubile for a long time to come.

today, it's over. today, jason and lisa giggled uncontrollably as he asked me if i had any gold bond medicated powder and if i knew what time matlock came on.

see, about two weeks ago, i noticed i had about twenty bug bites centered in the same area. they were itchy and swollen. at the same time, there was a rash on my back. being concerned as i am about maintaining the awesomeness of my skin, i sat on my hands to avoid scratching and liberally appliedhydrocortisone and topical antihistamines. lisa and i examined them and diagnosed bug bites and contact dermatitis (i've recently switched laundry detergents). but they kept getting worse.
turned red in the middle, scabbed over. started to hurt. and no matter what i did, they wouldn't go away. even porter's salve, the world's one and only actual miracle treatment, did nothing.

today, after a sleepless night spent in enough pain to cause concern, i sucked it up
and went to see a doctor. she took one look at my back, one look at my stomach, and said "honey, those aren't bug bites. you have shingles."

shingles.

i believe my precise response was, "shingles? are you serious? isn't that a creepy old fat people disease?"

(luckily, this particular doctor was southern in that comforting way that allows
for amusement. she talked and talked and laughed at me all the way through this).

"i just moved here a couple of weeks ago," i told her. "i just though i'd been bitten by an unfamiliar bug."

she eyed me critically and then said, "welcome to kentucky, honey. but this isn't our fault."

then she proceeded to explain to me how my immune system was compromised due to unusual amounts of stress (i attribute this to my disastrous move, particularly the part where my mom broke her arm - an unshakable belief in her permanent immortality keeps me sane. i've had enough parental mortality to last me a lifetime). it would go away, likely not leave any scars, and probably not come back.

then she commented on my extraordinary pain tolerance and told me that, next time, i shouldn't wait two weeks to get something checked out. apparently i don't feel pain like other humans, and this means i tend to let things go.

so not only am i an old woman with a bum hip and a compromised immune system, i am crotchety and distrust doctors, so i wait too long to go see them. and uh, i have shingles. so i'm gonna go rub on some soothing cream, tie my hair in rags, put my feet up, drink a cup of tea, and enjoy a late night showing of murder, she wrote. with narcotics.