getting old isn’t all it’s cracked up to be

I am sitting in my podiatrist’a waiting room to see what the heck is wrong with my right heel. Every time I walk on it, it kills me. I have had plantar fasciitis. That was something else! Now that was painful. Dang! He has not yet come back from lunch. I am really early.
Earlier in the day, I was at the chiropractor. My back feels like it is breaking in two most of the time. I have A disc that bulges backward- degenerative disk disorder , etc and so on.
So- these are the golden years eh? Hmm… The thing is I just don’t feel old. I was born in 1957- a near baby boomer,for heaven’s sake! A quasi hippie or maybe- more probably a wannabe hippie. At any rate, I never thought I would ever live to be almost 57. Since I found out I have bipolar disorder and take the meds the way I should, keeping relatively stable, I find my body wearing out already. This just doesn’t fit in with the lifestyle in which I have become accustomed to. I don’t have time for it. AND I do not like it one little bit!
Fat lot I can do about it. I hope not to be one of those whiny,complaining old women who only talk about my aches and pains. My poor,long suffering mom had a friend like that once, poor old soul. She didn’t have many people to talk about it to. It was probably why, too.
So, I hereby resolve not to be a whiny,complaining old bat to anyone who will listen- just to my poor old husband! Lucky lucky Stephen.

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