Becoming older is not for the faint of heart. Whoever thought retirement and beyond was all beer and skittles was delusional. Now don't get me wrong. Not working is great. Being surrounded by stunning artworks in the East End Gallery is the best gig ever. However, there have been times I have seriously wondered if we will survive financially to fight another day. Somehow, we have always managed to save ourselves from the ignominy of bankruptcy by the grace of God and the skin of our teeth. I just hope these miracles continue until we are old and decrepit.
Then, there are the fabulous health "benefits" of ageing, starting for girls around the age of forty. My first mammogram revealed microcalcifications in my left boob, which necessitated a biopsy. This procedure was possibly one of the most painful events I have endured in my entire life. Back in those days, I was slim. Which meant my tits had mostly glandular tissue and very little fat. Apparently, glandular tissue does not compress well, causing excruciating pain upon the insertion of local anaethetic. Once that ordeal was over, the surgeon was vacuuming when he suddenly uttered "I think I've hit a blood vessel. We may have to stop..." To which I replied "If you think I am coming back voluntarily for this, forget it. Now stop the bleeding and get on with the procedure!" The microcalcification was successfully removed, I bled all over their equipment and I enjoyed a cup of sweet tea and biscuits before they would allow me to leave...
Later, I had a uterine ablasion for peri-menopausal symptoms that was far more pleasant as I was unconscious. I have also has a pelvic x-ray checking for ovarian cancer which is rather akin to having a large erect penis shoved up one's vagina. Mammograms have become a regular part of my exciting social schedule, along with blood tests for every known condition and a brain MRI after I started lactating following Imogen's birth. I was convinced I had a brain tumour and was unexpectedly underwhelmed when I discovered that I had neither a tumour nor a brain.
The delicious Doctor Daram has been cutting skin cancers off my body for many a year. Now, this bloke would have to be one of the most gorgeous chaps I have ever seen. And he has fantastic bedside manners. Every six months or so, much to my dismay, I stand in front of this divine being whilst he utters, "down to your bra and knickers, Kate". And then he usually finds at least another spot that necessitates immediate removal. At the point of the local anaethetic injecting, I usually express my displeasure by bellowing "Fuckity, fuckity, fuckity, fuck!". Michael and Daram then roll around the treatment room, paralytic with mirth whilst the anaethetic takes effect and Daram then ensures the extinction of yet another skin lesion.
I had had both shoulders cleaned, my right ulna shortened, my ankle repaired and two knee replacements. Michael has also had his shoulders repaired, along with multiple carpel tunnel releases, ulna shortening, a wrist fusion, artificial tendons supporting his left thumb and two hip replacements.
Michael has also been subject to the extremely intimate checking of his prostate gland, along with regular gastroscopies and colonoscopies. These day surgeries are the pinnacle of embarrassing procedures, which means one just has to grit one's teeth and think of England. Let me explain...
Gastroscopy (downoscopy) is the preferable. No nasty potions to take. Just fasting, followed by being asked to swallow a tube whilst under sedation to check one's tummy and duodenum. Colonoscopy (uposcopy) is an entirely different ball game. The process begins with the removal of any fibre in one's diet two days previously, followed by the consumption of laxatives and "colon prep" which is designed to strip one's bowel of all solid material the day before the procedure. To state this process is unpleasant is akin to comparing an elephant to a T Rex. Yet, those of us at risk from digestive issues dutifully undertake this horrible task as we are directed.
Michael was subjected to both "oscopies" last Friday. He came through with flying colours. Polyps from both his duodenum and bowel were expertly excised. We have the photographic evidence for all interested or intrigued parties. We are very grateful and hopefully, he will not have to face this ordeal for another five years. If all these tests mean we remain as healthy as possible, then they are worth the effort.
Just don't ever suggest that becoming older is easy!
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