I refuse to consider the possibility
I’m on the phone with Terry tonight. We are of an age although he is three months
older, a fact I never let him forget. He
is telling me how he hurt his back this morning bending over to pick up a
dropped towel, he who is in the "best physical condition ever", (his description). Okay, one hears that people like to share
their physical ailments so I figure turnabout is fair play and describe my (one
and only) ache.
“It’s below my knee, but not the knee itself.”
“Does it feel like deep tissue?”
“Maybe. I don’t have
much to base this on. It doesn’t hurt
when I ride my bike, it just sorta aches sometimes.”
His advice: “Put some
Absorbine Jr. on it – that works miracles, like Windex in “My Big Fat Greek
Wedding.”
“I don’t have any. I think
there’s a bottle of aspirin around here somewhere.”
“Well Steph, you’ve reached the stage in life where you need to stock
up on those kind of products.”
He rambles on about something but I am stunned and totally
fixated on that last remark.
“What the hell are you talking about?
I’ve reached that age? I come from a very strong gene pool. I’ve got
decades left before I succumb to aches and pain.”
Pretty much the end of that conversation. Hrrmph.
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