“You know you're getting old when you stoop to tie your shoelaces & wonder what else you could do while you're down there”.
George Burns
I understand it is horrifying to look at, but this is a photo of the painful Shingles on my back side.
Today is Portland’s Gay Pride Day. I am showing how proud I am of being lucky enough to have been born homosexual by attending a film showing of the recent concert version Stephen Sondheim’s Company with my boo- Neil Patrick Harris & Miss Patti LuPone, & then off to a party/reception hosted by power lesbians. Gay, huh?
Today is also day 8 of Shingles, & again, I don’t mean Singles, the very good1992 film by writer/director Cameron Crowe that captures the essence of Seattle at the apex of Grunge, & in which I appear with my reliable brilliance… I am talking about the Varicella-Zoster virus, commonly named- Shingles, which has brought down our hero.
Another photograph of my special case of Shingles
The virus that causes Shingles occurs when the virus that gives you chickenpox starts up again in your body. After chickenpox, the virus is dormant in your nerve roots. In some people, it stays dormant forever. In the case of the Post Apocalyptic Bohemian, the virus woke up because of stress & an aging immune system. It is not clear why this happens, except that I am the very definition of stressed & old.
I missed 2 days of work & I was in pitiable pain & that could only be kept at bay with help from my friends the Vs- Vicodin & vodka. The Husband even let me off the hook from my chores. One would think that unabashed drug taking & Husband approved laziness would make for a fun week, but it was not to be. The pain has been unlike anything that I have experienced in my considerable time on this planet.
I did however have time for contemplation about becoming an old person. I actually opened the ubiquitous envelope from AARP yesterday. I considered the very real possibility that no one will ever find me attractive & I will never have sex again. Just like an automobile, even careful maintenance cannot halt the breakdown of my parts, & Saturday nights are for going to bed early instead of going out dancing. The saddest moment was realizing that I have never been smarter, but my body is giving up.
Day 8 of Shingles, they are starting to go away, but they have somehow become more sinister
Having some time to consider the inevitable, I also noted:
I sometimes attempt to straighten out the wrinkles in my socks & realize I am not wearing any.
I get the munchies & I hear snap, crackle & pop, but I’m not eating cereal.
My back goes out but I stay home.
When I look in the mirror I see my father’s driver's license photo.
It takes 3 tries for me to get up from the daybed.
My idea of a night out is sitting in the Boy’s Fort in the evening.
Happy hour is now a term for a nap.
I say things to my peeps that my parents said to me, & that I always hated it.
When I step off a curb, I look down one more time to make sure the street is still there.
I used to go to the gym daily, & now weight lifting is standing up.
It takes me longer to rest than it did to get tired.
My contacts on my cell phone are mostly names that start with Dr.
My pharmacist knows me by name.
Getting "lucky" means I know where to find my wallet & keys.
It takes me twice as long to look half as good.
Almost everything hurts, & what doesn't hurt doesn't work.
I spend time look for my glasses when I am wearing them.
I give up all my bad habits & I still don't feel good.
The Husband thinks I have more patience these days, but I actually just don't care anymore.
In my Vicodin haze I wrote the following in my gratitude journal, just as Oprah taught me: “There’s no empty space. The air is fluid, making room for me to get older, we all inhabit a nook that is exactly our size & shape. The air is nice enough to move with me when I move move. All of us are connected, molecule to molecule. I’m held together by everything that’s not me.”
My favorite music at this moment in time is from the remarkable new album Ukulele Songs by Eddie Vedder, a real right on gentleman, who I had lunch with during the filming of Singles. I am reminded that I am so old by the fact that Eddie Vedder is now almost 50 & my kids at work don't know who Pearl Jam are but are well versed in the fine points of Rihanna & Bruno Mars.
