It's MOM Already!

Marie Antoinette does not approve. 

So here's the takeaway wisdom from today's post:

Time flies when you're getting old.

It is MOM (Medical Overshare Monday) again, already. It seems only yesterday that I was regaling you with stories of my wonky shoulder, then heralding the miraculous healing powers of physical therapy (honestly, miraculous), and with a short break to talk about how wonderful my family is and how much fun grown-up children are, we're back to me, me, always me and my failing infrastructure.

If you check today's picture you'll notice that even Marie Antoinette looks disapproving at how much upkeep my corpus is needing, even though Marie's head pops off when you push the button on the back of her neck and she really shouldn't be all judgy-judgy about my meds. Up until a couple of years ago I was able to list my prescriptions on one line at the doctor's office (thyroid supplement and thank you, Mom, for that faulty gene) and my over-the-counters on one additional line (multivitamin).

Then came the discovery of clotting issues (that faulty gene was yours, Dad) and a lifetime prescription for blood thinners.

This week's addition to my ever-growing list of medicines came after a routine bone scan ordered following my annual check-up. I joked about it at breakfast, since the only risk factor I had for thinning bones was my status as a Woman of a Certain Age.

"No way this is a problem," I told Husband. "I'm a big-boned, overweight, dairy farmer's granddaughter with impeccable sin habits. No sir, I don't smoke and I don't chew and I don't kiss the boys who do, heh-heh-heh."

The universe picked up on that heh-heh-heh and the next morning the doctor's office called, because of course they did.

Osteoporosis, with a prescription for twice-daily calcium tables, once-weekly bone strengthener, and five-times-weekly 30-minute walks.

I asked if this was a severe case, and the medical assistant explained patiently that osteoporosis is a number on a scale, and once you pass that number you have it. It's like pregnancy--no such thing as being a little pregnant.

So to recap: In a short two years I have gone from being able to list all my medicines on one line to having a spreadsheet that enumerates not only the names of the medicines but also the times at which they should be taken (morning, evening, once/day, twice/day, once/week), plus the special instructions (remind pharmacy of coupon or be ready for sticker shock, take with water only and don't lie down for following 30 minutes, take with food, etc.).

As I was whining to my brother about this sad state of affairs, he reminded me that our dairy-farming grandmother lived to be 98, even with the osteoporosis she passed down to me.

"Aren't you glad you're alive now, when they're catching this really early and treating it aggressively?" he said.

Well, yes, there is that. I bet Marie Antoinette wishes there had been some way to remove that button from the back of her neck, and also to fix the arm that is held on with Scotch tape after I dropped her one day.

I'm thankful for the treatments, and that my faulty calcium usage was caught way early, but enough for now. I'm hoping the next Medical Overshare Monday is a long, long time in the future.