With a few intermittent hours of respite, the weather this past weekend was mostly overcast and drizzly, which gave us the perfect excuse to hole-up in the apartment (which, to be frank, is the tops in my book). I did some reading and some (intense) yoga. We rolled up our sleeves and did some deep “spring” cleaning. We made ourselves some extravagant meals, including this recipe, which was delicious–but don’t be fooled by the “20 minute prep time” as that was a load of BS and this food did not meet our mouths until 10:30 at night despite tag-teaming the stuffing of each. individual. noodle. However, with patience grasshoppers, you’ll have a delicious meal awaiting you at the end with a healthy dose of leftovers.
We did manage to steal away outdoors for some exercise via a brisk walk and play time around a gigantic and beautiful reservoir. We let G off his leash (because he hates all things that hint that he is not indeed human just like us) and he did some fun galloping laps around us and made many-a-runners fall in love with him. He is a real heartbreaker, I tell you.
Another reason I have been making more of an effort to get UP AND OUT and intentionally getting the heart-rate up is because I recently had the first physical I’ve had since middle school. What do you say? I have white hairs growing in? I am getting older? I can’t hear you. As I sat on the cold table, with the white roll of paper crinkling under my bare bottom and with a hastily tied thin medical gown on, it really started to dawn on me that though I may still be “young,” I am at an age where I really need to start thinking about my health. About what risks might loom ahead. At what consequences my actions, my diet, certain medications, or my family genes might have.
Family genes. That was another thing that I felt oddly affected (or is it effected? i never quite nailed this…) by as I sat across from my new doctor answering health history questions. While I’ve certainly hinted here and there on this little online journal that family is a tough word for me to understand and I’ve had my share of navigating through various tough memories, those experiences also come along with complicated family relationships full of secrets, hushed tones, and a lot of lack of communication. While I’ve dealt with a good deal of that emotionally over the past few years—with Will so gallantly by my side, holding my hand every step of the way—I felt a strange calmness mixed with worry as I realized that they left me largely unaware of how to answer questions about my family medical history. This time the trouble had nothing to do with my “personal” or emotional journey, but with the very pragmatic topic of health. My health. My chances of being vulnerable to this. Or to that. Or why do I have those problems?
On one hand, I felt proud that I had dealt with enough of my past to be able to candidly share things with my doctor about my family that would indeed be important to my own health, but I also felt the definite limitations of what I really knew on a practical level and how that will just make certain medical things more complicated. That has really been resonating with me lately, even from earlier this year when I had a little oral procedure done and the few more I’ll have to have later this year because damage had been done that never would have happened had things been properly dealt with when I was a toddler. I don’t mean to dramatize things too much, as I am still young, I do have my health, and I frankly have it pretty good with B + G at my side—I mean, dare I say I am ever-so-honestly happy right now. I only mean to say that along with appreciating the journey of my life, along with soaking in all the great things that have come into my life and how life becomes richer with each year that I gain in age, age also has its realities, and being in your mid-twenties starts to bring the weight of that into focus.
But the mid-twenties are still young, resilient years where we can control the level of our health in a lot of ways. So we dropped some dough on vitamins (the chewable, gummy kind, of course) and I upped my intensity-level in the yoga department, and am indulging G in longer and faster walks around town. And then I lit some candles, put my sweats on, and hung out with my two loves indoors as the rain drip-dropped outdoors.
Anyone else out there with me—are you getting white hairs or even just realizing that a bar of soap might not serve as sufficient facewash any longer and that maybe its time to officially end your relationship with the always-tantalizing and dreamy McNuggets for the sake of aging healthily? (McNuggets, I will still come to you from time to time…)
Also, have any of you read this op-ed column that ran in the New York Times?