Pieces of Me

This space for rent.

So anyway, I'm getting old. As I approach, in less than a month, an age that is considered in some cultures a milestone and in other cultures the moment when you suddenly lose all your hair and you're legally obligated to harangue the kids to GET OFF MY LAWN, I expect that I'll be reflecting in near-future blog posts on how the advancement of that age is taking its toll on my everyday life.

AND MY POINT IS
In other words, I'm not getting any younger. And, as a bonus, I've acquired many of the accoutrements of...well, not the elderly, but definitely the olderly.

I've worn glasses since sixth grade, but I should have started wearing them much earlier. I used to think my right eye had normal vision and my left was super-exceptional, but a trip to an ophthalmologist taught me that my left eye's vision was actually below-average and if right eye's vision were any poorer it would be on welfare and I'd be appearing on the Maury show to find out who's the father of my eye's six children.

Here are a few other things that have become as much of a part of me as those glasses. Are you ready?

LOSING MY GRIP

This hand is sexier than mine.

The thing: Wrist braces.
Used since: 2000 or so.

I haven't had my wrists/hand pain adequately diagnosed. I have a weaker grip than George Burns used when he was reviewing the first draft of Oh God! Part VIII: Everyone's Dead But Me, brought on my the repetitive-stress activities of my jobs. Is it carpal tunnel syndrome? According to my doctor, it could be tendonitis. I've had two blood tests for (among other things) lyme disease, and underwent an electromyography (EMG).

Oh, baby...

What's an EMG? Have you ever hit your funny bone or, say, French-kissed a 9-volt battery? Imagine that electric discomfort all over your body for about a half hour as tiny probes send jolts that are better suited for jump-starting a sedan. And, in my particular case, add a neurologist complaining about his property taxes during the procedure. The clinical shockfest turned up nothing abnormal, though for a week I was able to turn on a light by placing my hand on the bulb.

I wear the braces at night because if I don't, I'll need to call Mrs. The Anthony Show to open the bathroom door in the morning. But the braces are supposed to be a temporary thing; I found this out when I told my doctor that I've been wearing them for around ten years, he replied, "You shouldn't have needed them for that long." Now you tell me! Investigating this malady further is on my list of things I should do. That is a very long list.

Pros: I can open the bathroom door.
Cons: If it's that one day a year when Mrs. The Anthony Show initiates some, uh, intimacy after I assumed we were locked down for the night, I end up killing the mood immediately when I remove the braces with the RRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIP of the velcro straps. At least that's the excuse I make.

WORST FOOT FOWARD

Gellin' is not this much fun.

The thing: Orthopedic insoles.
Worn since: 2002.

The path that led me to orthotics is a somewhat winding road. Here it is, several months and co-pays compressed into a few bullets:

• Me: "I have hip and knee pain."
• Doctor: "Go see an orthopedist."
• Orthopedist: "The X-ray says you have a calcium deposit in your hip that is caused by your arches -- go see a physical therapist."
• Physical therapist: "You need physical therapy, and should you go see a podiatrist because you have fallen arches."
• Podiatrist: "You don't have fallen arches, per se, but you should get custom orthotics."
• Me: "Wonderful."

Pros: Very little knee and hip pain.
Cons: For some reason, I became very depressed (not clinically depressed, just mopey-and-a-pain-in-the-ass-to-be-around depressed) when I learned I'd have to wear orthotics every day. Then I realized there were other things more worthy of my moping, such as...


FALLING OUT OF CIRCULATION

Rather than upload any images
related to varicose veins,
I'll share a pic of a yummy
banana square I made yesterday.
You're welcome.

The thing: Compression socks.
Used since: Last Fall.

Sometimes you can look at your father and play the "I'm gonna look like that in 30 years" game. Likewise, you can notice a slight change on your body, such as a gray hair or bald spot, and you know that it's the beginning of the end for that part of your youth.

In my case, I've been experiencing the symptoms of varicose veins. Father of The Anthony Show had bad veins, but he also loaded large brown packages into larger brown trucks for 30 years. I didn't think I'd be seeing the same problems in my own lower legs by holding down a series of cushy but soul-crushing desk jobs.

I went to a vascular guy a few months ago so I could attack the problem before my shins and calves resembled a 3D subway map. He said I'm not in any immediate danger, but I should get an ultrasound on each leg (which I haven't done yet) and in the meantime I should wear compression socks. So, I wear compression socks.

Pros: They actually feel pretty good.
Cons: Because they're tight by design, it would be easier to put on the socks my kids wore as infants. And they're expensive, so I wash my one pair every day; fortunately my spouse and brood generate enough laundry for at least one load a day. I believe my socks have become intimate with every piece of clothing in my house, and have seen my wife's lingerie more than I have.

AND IN CONCLUSION
Wow, that was depressing, wasn't it? I don't think the Six Million Dollar Man had all those attachments, or at least he wouldn't if he were limited by my insurance co-pays. If there's any silver lining to all of this, I'm supposedly in very good health, otherwise.

And, I still have all my hair.