Please don’t get me wrong. I am grateful for every single day I’m blessed with Life on this Earth.
I didn’t mind 30. I’d just had TLC—she was the BEST
I wasn’t going to mind 40. (I got to plan my own Surprise Party—Ha!) But then I was diagnosed with breast cancer six weeks later. I had a modified radical mastectomy of my left breast and six chemo treatments over the next four months. Spent five more years on Tamoxifen (nicknamed chemo-in-a-pill—it was only tough the first three weeks and then it leveled out). That’s how I remember 40. Breast cancer.
50? It’s not that I was upset about it. I really just couldn’t believe I was there. I didn’t feel like a 50-year-old person. Whatever the heck that feeling is, I suppose. I went totally deaf in my left ear at 54. No explanation. No treatment. Can’t even wear a hearing aide. There’s nothing left to “aide.” Was grateful it wasn’t both my ears. Had my first broken bone at 55. Broke my right wrist (I’m right-handed, of course.) falling down in our shower one morning. (I was in a HUGE hurry to meet two high school friends, in
, for lunch. They teased me about
the lengths I went to to get out of that date!) Was grateful it wasn’t my hip
or leg. Or neck. Ft.
Now, sixty? Hasta la vista, fifties. Sixty! I’m ready for you. BRING IT ON.
(Feel free, at this point, to practice singing me the Birthday Song, okay?)
Smooches and hugs from a Senior Citizen in