My Lovely Bones
September 16, 2009, by Prudence Baird
A doctor’s prognosis brings Prudence Baird face to face with her “inner old lady.”
I love my town. What’s not to love about a place where the local doctor goes by his first name (Dr. Walter) and hand-writes notes to his patients?
Recently, one of Dr. Walter’s letters arrived in the mail. I recognized the familiar scrawly handwriting that could only belong to a doctor.
“What’s in the letter from Dr. Walter?” asked my husband.
“I have no idea.”
“Shall I open it?” he asked, ripping open the envelope. “Oh,” he paused. “You have osteoporosis.”
Surely my husband wasn’t talking to me?
I quickly looked around for Sally Field.
Moi, osteoporosis? A flying nun’s disease? An old lady’s disease? How could this be?
My husband handed me the note. Then I remembered the bone density test I’d had the month before—after my vitamin D count came back in the single digits. Standing in my living room, with the late afternoon sun streaming in, I held the letter in one hand and steadied myself with the other; I had one of those “this is your life” moments.
By that, I mean the realization of some absolute truths. Like the fact that I’m never going to win a Nobel prize, an Olympic gold medal or run in a marathon. I’m never going to have another child or a goat farm. And there will never be a day when the first thing I don’t do is reach for my glasses.
Of all the charges leveled at Baby Boomers—and there are many—the one I relate to most is that we refuse to acknowledge that our clocks are winding down. This isn’t because we’re creepy, like that guy in Death in Venice. No, we have mind-blindness when it comes to aging. I think that’s why so many of us didn’t remember to have babies until it was almost too late.
I remember when I was 39 years old, sitting in the obstetrician’s office for a consultation. The phone on the doctor’s desk rang in two short bursts. He held up his finger to me as if to say, “This will only take a minute,” and took the call.
“This is great timing,” said my doctor to whomever was on the other end of the phone, “I have a mother here with advanced maternal age.”
Oh, the poor old bag, I thought, looking around for a wrinkled crone with a baby bump.
Only after he hung up the receiver, did I understand that it was I who was the mother with “advanced maternal age.” My doctor had been speaking to the doctor who performs amniocenteses.
It’s not that I don’t know my age, and it’s not that I don’t feel my age, I simply don’t believe it. So when I overheard my yoga teacher explaining to one of the ladies in my Tuesday morning yoga class that she likes working with older women, I thought, “How lovely that she’s working with the elderly. They must really appreciate her efforts.” Driving home, the glow of admiration faded as I realized she had been talking about my yoga class. About me.
The good news is that there are drugs available to slow the ravages of osteoporosis. And there are yoga teachers who are thrilled to be teaching a class of creaky middle-aged women balasana, or child’s pose. And virabhadrasana, or warrior’s pose. And most of all, there are my children who are always happy to let me know that even if I don’t think of myself as aging, they certainly do. And they’ll make no bones about that.
September 16th, 2009 at 6:01 am
At a wedding last week, watching all the guests, I went into the ladies’ room and didn’t quite recognize the woman in the mirror for a few seconds until I realized that person, who did look a bit old, was me.
How wonderful that we look out from our eyes and have no real idea of our aging; it keep us young, and keeps others from defining us allowing us to create our own reality about aging.
On the other hand, it is easy to have tunnel vision this way.
Smiles, and love,
September 16th, 2009 at 6:32 am
Well, you may have a touch of the osteo, but to quote Fernando (aka Billy Crystal): “you loook marrvelllous.”
Hey, my doctor just did a Vitamin D test and increased my dose to 5,000 mg PER DAY. So all you old ladies out there (and even you young ones), have a blood test to check your Vitamin D levels…important for bone loss and breast health!
All of the women in my bi-weekly Pilates class are in their 50s and 60s and let me tell you, the stories about aches, pains and so on are such a relief. My physical and mental core are a whole lot better off because of them. Thanks for sharing your story.
September 16th, 2009 at 6:55 am
Yes…I am struggling to understand that the constant ache in my left hip is going to be with me til the end. I’ve decided to name it, since we will be together for my ever.
But…here is the answer to the no goat farm…I am a milkmaid in training. I have a found a woman with four goats (she makes the best goat cheese) who needs back up milkers on occasion. So I am learning – just off to milk now. In exchange I get to hang with the goats when I can, learn how to make the great goat cheese, and come home bith bushels of great stuff from her massive garden. Including fantastic rasperries. Its the perfect way to have goats. I just bet someone in your area needs a back up milkmaid.
September 16th, 2009 at 7:24 am
Pru, I love the part where you write about the realization of the absolute truths we come to know in midlife. I know I won’t be a contestant on “So You Think You Can Dance” and I guess I can live with that.
And those lovely bones. another sign that our parts sometimes wear out. While it’s hard to accept the aches and creaks of our aging frames, luckily, as you point out, there are solutions. I’ve just started in a new program where I’m part of a bone health study based on weight training. My density will be compared to the baseline test, one year later. While it’s not a battle, we must tend our personal gardens, our bodies. Keep up the Pilates and yoga, which will keep your mind as young as your heart. Namaste.
September 16th, 2009 at 7:30 am
Very cute, Pru. I asked my Doctor for my first bone density test and she said I had to wait 3 years from my last mensa. I thought, now I know she is nuts but deep down inside I WAS thrilled not having to face another mid life reality. When its time it will rear its face. I am not taking 50something as well as the rest of you. My mind says “Why didn’t I see this stage coming”, lol like you can predict where you will be in your mid-fifties??? Happy Days all!!!
September 16th, 2009 at 8:05 am
Pru–Your piece made me laugh so hard I almost broke my hip. And don’t be silly, luv, you can still have a goat farm.
September 16th, 2009 at 8:32 am
You nailed the sense of not believing we are old or aging. I chuckled about being a fellow “older woman” in our yoga class. Also, it seems to me that everyone looks about the same age in the 30-80 year olds…I cannot place myself on the spectrum any more.
September 16th, 2009 at 12:26 pm
Pru–I love your lovely bones, I think they’re looking great. I do however completely relate to the disconnect of being perceived as an older woman at the same time you are (I am) still internally trying to grow up and finally get it right (as if we could). Still working on the self (in the towards enlightenment sense), feeling like there’s a long way to go–and, oh, all those unfinished projects–while the world kind of looks at you as if you’re all done now and should be put out to pasture…Is there a pasture?..Maybe I would like it there..
September 16th, 2009 at 2:44 pm
Oh yes… Vit D deficient. That’s the report I too received during my well visit this past year. And being a Yoga teacher, I’ve become more compassionate not only with other’s aches and pains, but also my own.
I refuse to listen to what the media is promoting to women though. I’m very proud of the fact that the only pampering I do is paint my toenails and hair. I’m letting my face be what it is, because it’s me! I want to see how I will change through the years. And my 13 year old daughter said the other day… who says it’s better to look young?
Since I have enormous expenses and 3 children to put through college, I don’t have much spare change to spend on “face lifts… And even if I did the money, I’d much prefer to travel!
September 16th, 2009 at 3:48 pm
You lie! I never opened your mail! Or maybe I did. Maybe next you can write about living with someone who can’t remember shit.
September 16th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
Julie, I love your (wise, old-soul) daughter! And Breon, yes, let’s find that pasture. I think it’s over there–where the rainbow ends. I hope the pot-of-gold and a wise-cracking leprechaun is waiting for us. Or, at least some pot and a leprechaun’s pipe. (I’m kidding.)
Yes, Tim, I do plan on featuring you next time. So fasten your seatbelt. If you can remember where you put it.
September 16th, 2009 at 4:45 pm
A friend of mine recently realized that soon no one would be telling her she looks so much younger than 50-something anymore. I know what you mean, I thought. Somebody asked Gloria Steinem what she thought about being sixty (since she coined such a great line in response to being told she looked good for fifty: This is what fifty looks like!). Her response was that sixty is much easier than the fifties, which is such a middle of the road place–no longer in our forties during which time we still felt “young” and not quite old enough to call ourselves old. By the time you get to sixty, apparently you feel comfortable with the idea of aging because by then you’ve had time to adjust to it (thanks, no doubt, to all those people mistaking us for “old” women). I’m sure she’s right and I look forward to the next decade!
September 16th, 2009 at 8:44 pm
I love your writing Prudence. Your wisdom and your compassion and your humor. And the way you can articulate what others feel and are either too scared or just not able to express. It started for me when people called me “Ma’am” in stores, or asked me if I needed help carrying my one grocery bag out to the car! How does one avoid thinking of aging as a ‘disease’ as the medical profession labels it, but at the same time begin to realize that with the inexorable march of time we have to start being more conscious, more careful and, hopefully more introspective and spiritual. Thanks for writing this, it was very moving for me
September 16th, 2009 at 11:36 pm
Hi Pru!
I’m in total and complete denial about my age. Funny slip of the tongue: standing in line at the market, I noticed a picture of Patrick “McDreamy” Dempsey on a tabloid. I said to my daughter, “He was a total dork back when he was my age.”
I was trying to say that when I was 18 years old, and so was he, he played dorky roles. It seems that my subconscious believes I’m still 18. He’s aged. I haven’t. Somehow, I’ve frozen in time while the world around me gets older.
Riiight.
September 17th, 2009 at 6:10 am
Well, Prudence, you’re on point once again.
We DO know we’re aging and we DO recognize that there are things we won’t ever be able to do, but we just DON’T believe it!!!
BTW, that goat farm is still a real possibility, you know.
September 17th, 2009 at 6:15 am
You are such a good writer, Prudence.
“I’m never going to have another child or a goat farm.”
Love your work…and your brain.
September 17th, 2009 at 12:33 pm
I thought those aches were just “growing pains!”
September 18th, 2009 at 10:11 am
keep them coming. The disconnect is ongoing, or maybe it just starts in your 30s. Suddenly everyone is younger. Measuring ourselves by how we feel inside works great, until the body revolts with back pain, knee pain, and the like.
September 21st, 2009 at 8:07 am
Melinda wrote, “How does one avoid thinking of aging as a ‘disease’ as the medical profession labels it, but at the same time begin to realize that with the inexorable march of time we have to start being more conscious, more careful and, hopefully more introspective and spiritual.” Having to be more conscious — don’t twist that back! watch those knees! — I find that hard to focus on, it means being more deliberate and mindful. But I like learning to be more deliberate and mindful… and if the physical demands aid my spirit’s expansion then I will try to remember to say Thank You for this opportunity of this time of life. ‘Try’ is key here, the memory is going…
Thank you for the topic.
September 21st, 2009 at 3:42 pm
Oh yes – one more thing to add to our aging fracefully list. Allow me to recommend nettle tea. It’s good for the bones and so many other things. I suggest the leaves – brew the tea for at least 4 hours and you can drink it cold or hot or room temperature. And don’t forget to add honey.
September 23rd, 2009 at 9:39 am
Wow, you covered clever, witty, poignant, and authentic, and I loved every word.
Two things to share: 1. Gloria Steinem said about 71 when she turned 71, “It sounds like someone else’s age.” I fully live that! And 2. It was inevitable that our kids would think we are fossils. I asked my daughter recently about a pop culture thing, and she suggested that I could do a blog post titled “Ways In Which I’m Clueless”. I might just do that!