“The problem is, you’re old”
I am. I can’t hide that fact. If life is walking a plank, I am unduly aware there is more wood behind me and the sea just in front. However old cannot be a co-morbidity. I have enough bits falling off and trying to kill me without adding ‘the passage of time’ to the list.
Age is a factor. I have a tear in the hip muscle and in February did something stupid to my knee. I can’t run or bike. I can hardly walk. I can swim (arms only) so trundle to the pool three times a week to undertake the dullest exercise I know with the post stench of chlorine to remind me just how far I have degraded.
The surgeon tells me I am old. I am worn. He points at the MRI scan to where the knee has decided to be unco-operative. He also tells me he is not going to operate. So why do I feel (whisper it) almost….optimistic? Have I adjusted to the pain? Nup. Have I given up and accepted fate and my oldness? A world of no.
I have MS. My immune system hates me. I have a tumour at the base of my spine. Someone is taking the piss.
The beauty of being told that no operation will be performed is it hands back the responsibility to me. What can I do? I will be honest here and say that on far too many occasions recently I have come close to folding. Handing my swimming cap and goggles in and doubling up on Netflix. Who knows I may yet still.
One more try. One more attempt to make the knee see reason. The surgeon suggested a few things, the physio too. Stronger painkillers temporarily. An injection perhaps. Most importantly a target. Not couch but crutch to 5k.
See you on the start line in 2019.