If I were a car at CarMax, I would be moved to that back lot where the cars with excessive mileage have been put out to pasture. If you’ve never visited that lot, ask about it. An odometer with 75,000 miles qualifies a car for their certain Siberia.
Why do I suddenly have this CarMax fear? Because I’ve spent three weeks in a variety of doctor’s appointments that have revealed the following news:
- I’m experiencing some hearing loss
- I’m now both near-sighted AND far-sighted
- My crowns need to be replaced, and not the fun crowns you wear on your head, but the ones on your teeth that cost as much as a diamond tiara
Combine this good news with the lovely ups and downs of menopause, and I’m just a delight to be around. It’s as if age is waiting around every corner saying, “Boo!” and scaring the crap out of me.
Today was no different. I was supposed to go to the dentist to have three cavities filled before they replaced my crowns. How did that go, you ask? Not so good.
I’m sitting here in front of my computer with a mouth numbed by eleven shots of Novacaine that somehow failed to numb my tooth and now I have a temporary filling and an appointment for a return visit tomorrow.
Awesome, I say to myself, as I stop typing and try to take a drink from my DeerPark water that ends up running down the right side of my mouth and onto my shirt.
Donna’s Pity Party
I fully realize that I am still basically healthy, happy, and fortunate beyond words. Let’s just get that out of the way. But there are certain days when I want to host a pity party for me.
The good news is that this won’t last long. My mother established the precedent of two minutes of pity before she would announce, Let’s have a pity party for Donna, and the whole family would say, POOOOOOR DONNA. I hated those parties.
So, here is my brief but relevant pity party:
I see my body slowly wearing out like that used car in the back lot at CarMax, and I want to say – Hey, don’t give up yet, I’m not finished with his body!
I have more to do, and yet it seems my body is checking out.
Okay, enough of that, and I didn’t even use my full two minutes!
No More Pity Party
I started researching women much older than I who are rockin’ the world rather than boohooing by themselves. Here are a few examples – I encourage you to click on their names to see their stories:
- Johanna Quass is the German Senior Champion of Artistic Gymnastics. She is also 86 years-old.
- Carmen Dell-Ore’fice is 81 years-old. And she is a runway model.
- Ruth Flowers is known is a DJ who plays in the best clubs in the world. At 58 her husband of forty years died. She became a DJ at 68, and is still in the clubs at the tender age of 72 years-old. When asked why she became a DJ, she said because that’s what she wanted to do. Period.
These are the Dames that light our paths and give us hope. Rather than sitting in front of the television telling their best friend about what hurts, they are marching through the world doing what they want simply because they can.
I am going to march into that dentist’s office tomorrow and tell him to numb me from tip to stern and do what he has to do, because I have books to write, and speeches to make, and food to eat, and laughter to share.
And, CarMax, you need to keep me on the hot lot, I’m not ready for Siberia.