aging ruthlessly

so i went for my CT scan today and this is what came of it: i do not want to get old.

my father would say that the alternative (ie death) is much worse. but seriously... i spent some time in the waiting room (more time than i spent getting scanned, naturally) and got a real good look at all the things that can go wrong for a person. a rather round man next to me had been injected with a dye that would illuminate some problem or other when he got his MRI. a raspy, scrappy woman with a cane was ranting about politics until she fell abruptly into a nap (she was snoring so i know she didn't expire right then and there). yet another round man was anxiously awaiting his own test. and another woman was wheeled out post-scan and had no idea where she was or what was going on. (teeth seemed to be at a premium, too.)

i should note that since my appointment last week with the ankle doc, i have not done a single thing they told me to do. i have not used the cane, i have not walked slower (i'm physically incapable), i have not worn my running shoes - except for Saturday when i went to the gym and spent an hour on the elliptical because i thought if i didn't go i might lose my mind.

i also, on Saturday night, had three or four glasses of wine on an empty stomach and paid for my sins yesterday when i couldn't clear the fog in my brain (or satisfy my raging appetite) for half the day.

seeing those sort-of sad, not-well, rapidly-aging folks in the radiology waiting room today reminded me why i might want to reconsider abusing myself the way i tend to. then again, is it better to throw caution to the wind now, probably enjoy life more (at least have more stories to tell) and pay for it later? or will i be glad at age eighty-two if i play by the rules now?

well, anyway, i had the scan (administered by a tech who had less personality than the machine i was laying on/in) but didn't get any results yet. i really don't think there's anything that wrong with my ankle. i went bowling, too, on Saturday (crammed a lot into one day) and neither my workout nor my pathetic attempts to knock down pins with a heavy ball seemed to make my ankle feel any worse.

in fact, i'm pretty sure it feels better than it did a week ago, which makes me think soldiering through the pain is better than any ski boot or flippin' cast they could force on me. and there you go. i've just answered my own question. aging well is not about behaving yourself, it's about getting on with things even when they tell you not to.

hopefully the CT scan will back me up on this.

mb