Dearest Sisters Take Heed

               


The years have been harsh. I feel as if I will not walk this world much longer. I have tried to live well, but alas, my many years of high living have taken a toll on this old shell of mine.

               Why, even my morning showers have become a grotesque wrestling match, as I attempt to scrub every nook and cranny! I shudder to think of the pimply road map the medical examiner might find upon my demise—a relief map of areas I strained to reach, all foretold by the highs and lows of those adolescent bumps!

               Not to mention those areas that were often neglected in my youth but now appear to be areas in deep need of constant attention. Like behind my ears, around the corners of my mouth, and those unforgiving pimples in my nostrils! At what point did daily washing necessitate such overzealous attention to detail?

               My daily exertion continues after showering. First is the thorough drying with the towel, attempting to reach every nook and cranny that I just worked so strenuously to scrub clean. Often times I am weary and sweaty from the effort. Only to barely recover before my daily aerobics continue with  my undergarments desiring to cling to my overheated, damp skin, causing near falls as I attempt to drive my big toe down through the small hole of my undergarment, without catching nary a rebellious toenail or my pinky toe on the elastic side, all while balancing on the opposite foot. These balancing acrobatics alone can sometimes cause me to breathe heavy from the effort. But, alas, dear sisters, I do not let mere undergarments deter me from the task at hand. Even when I feel I am surely peeling off a layer of skin, just to turn my clasped brassiere around to the other side. The queen of the flying trapeze holds nary a candle to my morning dressing!

               And the endurance of such exertions combined with the still disseminating heat from the shower, causes me to continue to sweat long after the completed triathlon of cleaning, drying and dressing.

Often, I mop my brow as I attempt to apply my makeup to my damp skin, still reflecting the heat of the water that had previously cascaded across my body. I must confess, sisters, that sometimes I go so far as to stand in front of a box fan for a few minutes, to more thoroughly cool down my face so I can proceed with my makeup application.

               It appears to be the same daily grind for those white tombstones that allow me to eat my daily sustenance. Daily brushing seems to fall short, and if I grow lax with my flossing, I truly swear that everything starts to fall apart! Cavities abound, plaque abounds, and pain returns to such a precious part of my daily sustenance.

               And after this last visit to the dentist the news from within my mouth shook me to the core of my being! My rigorous brushing with my hard bristles embedded in my brushing utensil, has coerced my gums to withdraw to safety! That combined with my cavity acquired from food hiding in a small pocket in my super occluded tooth, has caused me to self-chastise for my lack of water pik device use. I am haunted by the reality of damage even just a small change in my constant vigilance can produce.

               However, these detrimental effects to my mouth have certainly not stifled my ability to eat a hardy meal! The ease with which I can gain weight has now intensified in concert with my desire for sweets! And as I know that my lack of activity can outweigh (pun intended) some of the consequences of such an appetite, I have endured intense injury to my ankle as a result of my increase in dancing merriment! The foot doctor cautioned me against bearing any weight on my Achilles tendonitis, and I endured twelve weeks and a fortnight with nary a step while trying to heal my ever so small portion of my ankle!

               And then this cursed body continued to vex me by my ribs becoming fractured just as I began to increase my activity! Once again, I was cautioned for weeks without any kind of physical exertion! Oh, what a calamity it was and deflating my motivation while enduring such pain.

               I have been harried by my lack of physical activity. Yes, my sisters, even an activity like sweeping, vacuuming or sewing, now causes the muscles in my back to scream in pain from top to bottom! Why, even the other day as I exited my motor carriage and misjudged the distance to the door, I jammed the littlest of my fingers into the door! Even as of this writing, the finger aches in certain movements and reminds me continuously of my aging body.

               My eyes as well have been harshly reminding me of my aging. Whether in glasses or contacts, it seems neither way makes my sight clear. Either one or the other has limits upon my vision, and I have to choose whether I want to see clearly far away, or whether I want to see clearly what I am writing. My only wish though, is that while there is breath in my body, I might continue to be able to see my loved ones around me!

               Although there are neither contacts nor glasses that can cloud the vision of the stray hairs upon my chinny chin chin! It is a weekly task to “weed” those unwanted follicles on my chin and upper lip. I shudder the day that my poor eyesight will not allow me to find those wandering hairs and plead with you, my dear sisters, to take pity on me at that time and keep the tweezers or razor ready at the hand!!

               And my mind has been challenged throughout these decades of constant use. So many words swimming deep into the recesses in my mind cause them to surface quite slowly. Why even the other day, sisters, I searched for the words “pool ladder” to speak to my sweetheart and the words eluded me like lottery ticket wins! I said, “pool stairs” and my dearest husband searched my face looking for some clue as to what I was potentially speaking about. Alas, I pointed to the ladder and discovered words were not always necessary to communicate with my love!

               And oh, the myriads of pharmaceuticals deemed necessary for the maintaining of the health of my body! I have begun to use a fancy container with which to house them, to enable me to quickly swallow the correct ones at the correct times. I have even begun to carry a listing of such modern medicines and their correct dosage, as I can remember all the names, but when asked for the dosage I dare say the exact amounts are as far-reaching and numerous as the waves on an ocean.

               And the child proof containers on these aides to health, do they really need to be so challenging? Why, Fort Knox surely would do well to use these methods for security!! Even the other day my dearest love gave up on extricating the modern mixture of medicine for me, as the hand aerobics defied gravity, it seemed, as he attempted to remove the top.

               I never thought, dear sisters, I would be at that stage in my decades of life where if I were unfortunate enough to drop something, that I would need to seriously consider whether I sincerely needed to retrieve it, or if I could wait for another, later time when I am bending down to retrieve another item or two.

               And let us not forget other challenging activities like our nighty slumber! Indeed, how even the smallest of activity, like rolling over, can pull a mischievous muscle that will ache and throb into the night!

               Similar muscle movements, like the tumultuous body contortions during a sneeze and a cough, can cause those muscles to ripple pain through to the deep recesses of our consciousness, making us fully aware of every tendon in that area. How many times, dear sisters, did we think we would be rushed to the emergency room as the result of a single sneeze?

               And I cannot end my list of body grievances without mentioning the incredibly complicated circus of swallowing. I cannot number the times I have not had my throat muscles react in synchronization, only to cause an item to be catapulted down my airway instead. I can envision it even today, how my obituary might read of my demise, a tale of choking to death upon the inhalation of my own saliva, cascading through my lungs and robbing me of life-giving air.

               There are so many ways one might reach the end of their life journey, but inhaling one’s own spit, well, that my dear sisters could be one for the annals of history.

               But take heart, dear sisters, for I have good news of the knowledge to be gained from all of these trials and tribulations! While enduring the limiting activities of my fracturing of my ribs, the intense pain forced me to forego many of my daily routines. I was forced to limit my actions, including the ease of the clothing I chose to wear. I no longer performed the aerobics required for harnessing my breasts, no longer poked the plastic discs into my eyes, and I no longer fought my glistening face to apply my makeup. I gained time and freedom from these things and lived outside among the living with nary a nod to my less than 100% accoutrements. Indeed, did anyone even notice the absence of these things?

               Alas, dear sisters, for my love did not mind and at the end of the day, he and I are the ones that truly matter.

                So, I hope this letter finds you well as you can be at your advanced age, and please, take heed of my warnings if any of them you have not already discovered for yourself. If you have, then please take comfort in the knowledge that I am enduring as well and pray that we all come out on the other side the stronger for it.

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