by Candi Vlasaty
With age comes wisdom. I don’t know who said that but they must be older than me. I’m still waiting for my wisdom.
All I get with age is gray hair, sore feet and a multitude of unexplained aches and pains.
My medicine cabinet has aged with me. What used to be a few odds and ends have become whole sections.
One bottle of Tylenol has become a whole section of pain relievers. Aspirin and ibuprofen abound in all milligrams and every form. I have tablets, caplets, melt-aways and extended release. Some are for headaches, some for arthritis, some for the unexplained aches and pains.
Band-aids have become arthritis gloves, knee braces, bunion pads, specialized shoe inserts and walking canes.
The Flintstone chewable vitamins have aged into Centrum Silver, fish oil, calcium and joint-health pills. None are chewable; all are the size of small animals.
My toothpaste has been replaced by a plastic box, denture tabs, adhesives and a brush big enough to clean my car off with.
The acne cream has aged into dry skin lotions, creams and balms, along with anti-wrinkle moisturizers, age-spot reducers, muscle rubs and anti-itch ointments. Some I’m not even sure are for humans. I have udder balm for dry skin, Tiger balm for working hands and emu oil for what I don’t know. I know I am changing with age. But what am I changing into?
We now have a gastro-intestinal section. Tummy aches that used to be cured by 7-up or ginger ale are now handled by Tums, Rolaids, Pepto Bismal, Gas-X and fiber enhancers. That section has its own set of creams and ointments. This is a full-time all consuming section – depending on what I consume. Too much fiber requires softeners. Not enough requires more fiber. I still like the same foods, but apparently they no longer like me.
My aging dog, Rocky, now has his own section. It consists of Heart-Guard, calcium, glucosamine and rimadyl for joint health. And phenobarbital for seizures. We share the gastro-intestinals with him when needed. In addition to his lifetime of seizure medication, he has since had two ACL-tear surguries and now needs monthly adequan shots for arthritis. He should be the first of us to go on Medicare.
I used to grab a pair of tweezers to pluck out an errant hair or two. That, too, has aged into a whole section. It has become hair bleachers, hair removers and hair-growth promoters. My hair has aged into the color of my choice. I can choose Clairol Loving Care, Loreal or a bunch of others. I can streak, highlight, lowlight, frost, cover or restore. My choice is anything but gray.
My husband, Kermit, loves to watch a show called Big-Foot Hunters. It’s where people think they see a sasquatch. I don’t believe it. I think they see a woman who is running to get either hair-removal lotion or more Clairol Loving Care. It may be what we’re aging into.
I’m not getting any wiser yet with age, but I know if they come out with a pill, lotion, vitamin or cream for wisening up, I’ll have a section for that, too, in my aging medicine cabinet.