This Old House

Ever have one of those months where everything breaks?  It starts with things in the house then spreads to things on your body and you spend the whole month making appointments, scheduling babysitters, then rescheduling appointments and babysitters as more urgent things break, and finally alternately showing up for and missing appointments all month?

Let me back up a bit.  Like 37 years a bit.  When I was born, the doctor and my parents looked at me and came up with a diagnosis:

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I was perfect.  Not a scar, not a mark, not a single missing eyelash. 

Unfortunately, there is only one place you can go from perfect:

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So no biggie.  Nothing a Flintstone vitamin a day couldn’t fix!  That’s how I spent my childhood: being Flintstone-fixable perfect.  Enter my young adult years—this next picture is an amalgamation of the high school and post college me:

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The sprained ankles were from playing basketball all throughout high school and didn’t last too long; the carpal tunnel was from scooping ice cream at Baskin Robbins and went away once I moved to college; the astigmatism was mild and I liked that I could wear glasses and look bookish when I wanted to;  the really bad haircut and perm happened when I was a teacher and if you had known me then, you also would have added this to a list of medical problems.  But overall, not too bad.  I stopped taking Flintstone vitamins and started swallowing iron vitamins.

And that brings us to today.

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The astigmatism has gotten worse and worse so that now looking bookish is not so much a choice as a need; the carpal tunnel made a friend called radial tunnel that zings me every time I bump my arm into a doorknob or overwork my arms; I have a bunch of little cysts in my wrists that don’t bother me and one good-sized cyst on my hand that does; the big long “h” word came with my fourth pregnancy and requires a medical procedure to fix; the strained muscle in my calf has persisted for two years despite physical therapy; I am still anemic and at some point it was discovered I have a blood clotting disorder called Factor V Leiden.

Perfect?  Hardly.  So this is the year I am going to fix Me.  I will squeeze in visits to the orthopedic hand surgeon, the colorectal surgeon, and the sports medicine doctor in between visits to the pediatrician, the speech therapists, the basketball practices and swim lessons and rock climbing classes, the play dates, and the boys’ classrooms this year.  It is time to take charge of ME!

And of course, right after I declared this, my dental bridge chipped in half and the list of things to fix got longer instead of shorter.

But hey, I’ve still got my health.  More or less.

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