So far in my old age – I am 75 – I have been lucky in my health (I say that with multiple knockings on wood). I have no intrusive afflictions, no conditions, no diseases, nothing that requires medication.
I owe a lot of my good health, I tell myself, to a strong, peasant gene pool and without being zealous, try to eat well, exercise regularly and get enough sleep.
That doesn't mean I haven't slowed down. I don't have the energy reserve now that during most of my earlier life was so easily available that I didn't notice or appreciate it. I wear out more quickly these days and it takes longer to recover when I have overdone.
I mention this today because time was, one good night's sleep refreshed me from any extra strain on my body. No longer.
On Tuesday, I underwent more dental surgery. You've heard this story before but that was my upper jaw, now in excellent working order. This year it is the lower jaw.
The surgery was no small undertaking. It lasted about an hour-and-half involving cutting out an old bridge, inserting a temporary one, mostly cosmetic so there is not a gap in my smile while the two implants that were also inserted on Tuesday take the next four months to fuse with bone after which the new overdenture can be crafted.
I napped most of the rest of the day and slept more soundly than usual that night - for all the good it did me: I didn't feel much different on Wednesday so I took another day off from life. And, except for this post, another one on Thursday so I would be rested enough to enjoy a two-hour Friday morning group meeting I was looking forward to.
The recovery seems lengthy – two-and-a-half days – but too often we (read: I) forget that dental surgery is, after all, surgery and just because I don't have a big bandage or cast to show off, doesn't mean it's not a bodily invasion by foreign objects involving blood and, when the anesthetic wears off, pain.
It took every bit of that recovery time for me to feel right again this week and it's not that I didn't know I would need it. It had take several days during similar surgeries for my upper jaw - I just forgot and therefore was blindsided with the time needed this week to feel restored.
(NOTE: I'm not looking for sympathy with this post. After nearly two years of continuing dental work, it has become more of an annoyance than anything else. I've learned how to manage residual pain and to prepare ahead to have soft foods ready during the healing period. But that doesn't shorten the recovery time.)
A week or two ago, a friend said to me, “No one tells you these things about growing old when you're young.” She was specifically referring to how much longer it takes to do all kinds of things after 50 or 60 or 70, and that it would have been nice to be warned.
I've often said that myself. I've probably written it in these pages too. But I've had plenty of time to think about that this week and I've changed my mind.
Why clutter up other people's younger years with news that would only be taken as a bummer?
The changes of ageing come to us gradually over decades and even as we might resent them, we accommodate them as needed, as (ahem) time goes by.
And anyway, who would believe us when we say that the day will come when you cannot play tennis all afternoon, prepare a dinner for 10 guests and then go dancing until 2AM without a second thought?
I would not have believed it – or, at least, not taken it seriously - even in my forties. So unless they ask, let them find out in their own time, I think now. Most of us manage the surprises of age without too much fuss, forgetful as I was about them this week.