At Your Age

I remember a conversation I had with my mother -- I think I was in my early teens -- where she was talking about her doctor, and how the one phrase she hated hearing more than any other was, "At your age..."

The first time I heard it myself was when Matt and I decided we were ready to start a family. I went to my doctor for a physical and to ask if there was any particular advice we should follow in order to make it easier for us to conceive. He loaded me up with some good advice, told me to start taking prenatal vitamins immediately, and then said, "Of course, at your age, you're already past your ideal fertility period, so if you're not pregnant in six months, come back to see me."

Hahaha. Fertility turned out to be one health issue that is not on my plate; both Penny and Alex were conceived on the "first try".

I heard it again about a year or so ago, when I went to an orthopedist about my bum knee. This time, it was, "At our age, things don't heal as quickly or as well as they did when we were twenty. It's not likely this will ever get back to 100%, but we might get it to 80." At least the orthopedist being close to my own age took some of the sting out of it.

But last week, I went to the eye doctor for a routine exam. I'd thought about skipping it for a year -- my stupid vision insurance will cover new lenses every year, but new frames only every other year, and how am I supposed to see for two weeks while my frames are being refitted? But thanks to last year's bungle, I actually have two pairs of glasses, so I could get my favorites updated and wear the other pair in the meantime. (I've enjoyed having two pairs of glasses, actually. I'll miss it.) And what clinched it for me was realizing that I was squinting slightly to read the reminder card they'd sent me. So off I went.

Only that neat little plan went straight down the tubes when the doctor had mostly finished the exam. "Most glasses correct for distance vision," he said. "You need these for driving, but probably not for normal, everyday activities." Well, that's true. I've been known to forget to put my glasses on after my shower and not realize it for quite some time. "But for reading, now... Well, see, focusing up close requires the fine control of particular muscles, and usually somewhere right around your age, those muscles start to deteriorate..."

I need bifocals.

Or, since I spend a solid 12 hours a day looking at computer screens and another 2-3 hours reading on paper, and I've been told by multiple people that using bifocals with a computer is a massive pain in the neck, I need two pairs of glasses: one for driving, and one for reading. (When I'm not doing either, the doctor says I won't make my vision any worse by going without, or by wearing whichever glasses I'm most comfortable with.) Of course, I sit fairly far back from my computer screen at work, so I'll be interested to see which pair of glasses works better there.

And of course, my stupid vision insurance only covers one pair of lenses each year. So even though I'd taken in my favorite frames to get them refitted with the new prescription, I'm still having to pay for one whole pair of glasses completely out of my own pocket. And let's not pretend that the covered lenses are completely covered, or that the anti-glare treatment is covered, either. Grr.

On the plus side, a co-worker reminded me that I could submit the bill to my Flexible Spending Account, which I'd completely forgotten about. I don't usually put much into my FSA, because it's a use-it-or-lose-it account. Last year, I got the entirety of my FSA back to cover my allergy testing and a couple of months' worth of shots. So at least I'll get that back. And next year, since it looks like I'm going to have to be maintaining two pairs of glasses each year, I'll bump up the amount in my FSA.

So I should (should -- I trust nothing, after last year's six-week fiasco) be trying to figure out how to juggle two pairs of glasses in a couple of weeks, here, when they come back from the lab. Whee.

And as if that didn't have me feeling old enough, the kitchen stool tried to kill me yesterday. I got up on it to get to something on the top shelf of a cabinet, and on my way back down, I failed to put my foot solidly on the floor. I caught my instep on the side of the stool, which rolled my foot over and made me lose my balance so that I ended up dropping my full weight on damn near the top of my foot. Which doesn't work so well, so I staggered and fell sideways, barely catching myself on the edge of the sink. Which dropped at least two-thirds of my weight on my bad shoulder.

I just hung there for a moment, gasping in pain and seriously wondering if I'd just broken my ankle and whether I was going to be able to hold on to the side of the sink until Matt got home with the kids. But after a bit, my vision cleared (I hadn't realized it had gone all spotty until I could see again) and I gingerly pulled myself upright (I'm very surprised I don't have an enormous bruise along my ribs, where the edge of the sink gouged me). Matt and the kids got home just at that moment (so I guess I would have been able to hold on, after all), but when I cautiously put my foot on the floor, it ached a little but didn't hurt, so nothing seems to be broken.

I certainly strained something. I can walk, but if I try to roll my ankle to make a circle with my foot, it protests turning outward slightly, and inward quite vehemently. I'm not sure if I should continue to try, gently, to keep it stretched, or leave it the hell alone for a few days, to let it heal.

Going to the gym today will be a real treat, I bet. If nothing else, I suspect I'm off the treadmill and back to the stationary bike for the rest of the week.

I really should be more careful, at my age.