|I had to wear wrist splints for two weeks when I thought I had carpal tunnel. Yay me.|
Yep, you heard that right. I'm old. I think I might have even skipped the "getting old" part and went on ahead to just being old. I have aches and pains everywhere. Yesterday it was too difficult to put my bra on so I cheated and clipped it first before putting on the straps. If I had to guess, I would say I learned that trick from some Golden Girls episode.
If I had to pinpoint the exact moment that I realized I was old, it would probably be when I excused myself at a house party to take a 45 minute nap. The scary part is that I wasn't even embarrassed by it— I just needed those blankets and pillow that bad. I think I might have a nap addiction. While the others (my boyfriend included) were taking shots and eating red velvet cake, I was snoring in the dark living room that no one was in.
Some other indicators that my youth is decaying: I have arthritis. Yeah, apparently 23-year-olds are still susceptible to rheumatoid arthritis and you reading about one who just got diagnosed with it. When I was at the store the other day, I actually considered buying a pill case to store all of my arthritis pills (steroids included) in. It would be so more practical, I reasoned, to have one case for them instead of lugging around all the clunky pill bottles in my purse. Now I understand why all the elderly own those pill cases labeled by days. Thankfully, I'm not that extreme yet.
What I don't understand though, is why doctors ask you to take half of a pill. Why even bother? When I'm at my desk cutting my steroids in half just like the doctor ordered, I feel like my coworkers' judgment. They probably think I'm some pill-popping downers addict. Almost like a younger (barely) version of Meryl Streep's character in "August: Osage County." And I don't really blame them for judging. If I were them, I would probably judge the girl that announces "It's steroid time!" every day too. I'm kind of asking for it.
But they need to know— the struggle is REAL! Arthritis explains the difficulty in strapping on my bras, opening water bottles, or for that matter, anything that I have to do a twisty motion in order to open. In fact, I've gotten into the very un-feminist habit of pathetically trying to open a water bottle top once and then giving up and handing it over to the closest person around me with a puppy dog whine. I also like to throw out the saying "#arthristisproblems" so they know that it's a serious condition.
And it IS! I haven't been able to wear rings for three months now because my fingers are so chubby. I don't even really remember what their normal size are anymore, I'm just used to them being Shrek-sized. To give you more perspective, a ring that fits my current pinky fits my boyfriend's thumb. Now that's just embarrassing. Before I found out it was arthritis, I actually thought I had carpal tunnel. I took a 30-minute long nerve test where they electrocuted my finger tips to find out that "No, you didn't have carpal tunnel, but there has to be an explanation for why both of your wrists are swollen."
That explanation happened to be arthritis.
And now, I was just informed that I should seriously consider cutting down products containing gluten because they could have a drastic effect on my arthritis. When does it stop?! I can't open bottles and now I can't eat pasta?! Being old sucks. It's a never-ending cycle of health issues and all I want to do is nap it off.
My friends and I look back at our college days and don't know how we did it. I have no earthly clue how I used to get by with three hours of sleep every day and still make it to my 8-o'clock class. My body physically cannot handle a hangover anymore. It's last all day and is a complete waste of time. It's just not worth it anymore.
And heels! How the hell did I used to wear those bitches! In fact, I didn't just wear them, I somehow managed to jump fences and run away from the cops in six-inch heels. That is bullshit. I refuse to wear anything that doesn't have a chunky heel and is no more than four-inches. Stilettos have no place in my closet.
It's really hard being old. Take it from me— I'm 23.