It’s not many days until my birthday arrives and I won’t be eighty anymore. I’ve loved being eighty years old. During the year, when I would remember how old I was, especially around the 10th of each month, I felt so grateful to be alive. I would think of people I knew and loved who were no longer here and feel even more grateful.
Since turning eighty I have discovered that I can save myself some unnecessary grief if I remember there are cycles. This must be the reason Buddhists place such great emphasis on recognizing that everything is constantly changing.
When I first reached this milestone birthday, I felt a renewed sense of energy at having entered what I saw as a new phase in my life. This didn’t last long. I soon noticed that most days, I encountered a significant decrease in my energy level. I was pretty bummed when I felt so tired. Even at eighty this pattern of ups and downs is hard to spot.
It was during one of these down times that my physical therapist’s suggestion that I use a cane hit my ego hard. You might remember a post I wrote about this. I am proud to say that I did purchase a cane, but I’m also a bit chagrined to admit that it hasn’t left the house.
At another medical appointment, I explained to my osteopath that I felt a bit dizzy now and then. She suggested that it might have to do with the setting on the shunt that regulates the release of cerebral spinal fluid. She also suggested a walking stick when I felt dizzy, commenting that walking stick may sound more palatable than cane. We discussed how my trip to Colorado in April and going through the security’s magnetic device had likely changed the settings on the shunt.
She was the second doctor to encourage me to begin taking a prescription drug for my bones since my DEXA scan didn’t show that exercise was enough to stop the changes in my bone density. That was another low-point this year—I had not wanted to take these drugs as I’d tried them years ago and felt they didn’t agree with me. But at eighty, I took Alendronate and aside from the extreme difficulty of getting the damned little white tablet out of it’s packaging every week, there have been no side effects.
Another element of change that I face is my quest to not shrink any further, which in my seventies I used to call “working on my posture”. The many exercises I do to this end are challenging. I will have a string of days when I exercise and love the feelings of strength and vitality, followed by days when I cannot even imagine grabbing my walking poles or lifting my 8 pound weights. But they do pay off! I was thrilled this week at my wellness check with my PCP when I measured ¼ inch taller!
Do you notice the cycles of change more or less as you age?
IMAGE: the Guardian enjoying my gift of mums in the rain.
