The Warranty Expires at 50

When I spoke to my cousin while he was recuperating from surgery in a hospital bed he said, "It's like once we turned 50 the warranty expired and everything broke." I couldn't agree more. The poor thing was groggy from undergoing surgery to repair his arm which he screwed up pretty bad after slipping in the shower and crashing through the glass doors. His house was built the same year as mine, 1957 and he had his original doors. We had them for a couple of years until we had our own "shower door incident." As my daughter was taking a shower one of them fell on her (don't even ask how that happened because we still haven't been able to figure it out.) She was stuck against the wall and screamed for us. When my husband rescued her he then ripped the doors and metal track off with his bare hands. "I always knew these doors would be a problem!" Luckily the glass never shattered on her and she escaped unharmed.

Safety glass was a thing of science fiction back in the 50's so when my cousin went crashing through his doors shards of glass sliced so deeply into his arm that he had to push his own bicep in. Standing over 6'7" he's not a small guy so it didn't surprise me that over a dozen EMT techs, police and firemen had to dislodge him from the metal frame that was keeping him prisoner. Only by the grace of God and his quick thinking to use a towel to make a torniquet to stop the massive bleeding is he still around today. One EMT told him, "With all the blood you lost, if you were a smaller guy you'd be dead right now." He has another surgery scheduled in a couple of days to have some nerves removed from his leg and placed in his arm so he could get feeling back in some of his fingers. "Did you ever think we'd be the ones saying, 'I've fallen and I can't get up?'" he joked. No, I never did.

The way I've been feeling lately I keep having visions of driving around in one of those motorized Hover-round vehicles you see on the commercial. Only difference is in my vision I gun the damn thing right over the edge of the Grand Canyon. I'm not enjoying getting "old." My mind is still sharp, I think, but my body won't do what my mind wants it to do. There are some days when my hands cannot hold three pound weights. I'm just waiting for the day my fingers slip open and have the weight crash onto the toes that hurt when stepping on the ground.

I've been working on a cross-stitch for my grandmother. The package says it's a "weekend project." Between my eyes blurring and my fingers stiffening it's already taken three weeks and I'm only half done. At the rate I'm going my grandmother will be 101 before I finish it. Yes, she's going to be 100, and still has all her faculties. Heck, she lived on her own until 95 and was still cooking Sunday suppers to whoever would go to her house. I got some of her genes, but I doubt I got the longevity one.

Typing and even texting is more of a chore now. While texting just a couple of letters in response to my daughter, "k, cya," my thumb hurts. As I massaged it I noticed the RA damage is starting to show. Damn, this is a quick-moving disease. I thought the methotrexate was supposed to stop the joint damage. Besides making me feel like I was hit by a truck two days out of the week, filling my mouth with a metal taste, possibly destroying my liver and causing me to stop self-medicating myself via alcohol, I'm beginning to doubt the chemo pills are doing any good like I thought they were. I fear my body has built up a resistance to it already. I've doubled up once already and dread my doctor will double it up again after he sees my lack of progress at my next visit.

I sometimes think my biggest mistake was "cleaning up" years ago. Thanks kids! All I know is that when I was staying out til all hours and partying, other than a brief hang-over, I felt fine. I ate what I wanted, when I wanted and still remained thin, had luxurious curly hair, was never tired, and felt healthy as a gazelle running from a lion. And I never ever went to doctors. Those days are long gone. Now I feel like the the gazelle that has become feeble and is left behind by the pack, just waiting to be devoured.

I wish someone had offered me the extended body warranty...for a change I would have taken it.