Drugs and Needles

This is floating around the Internet. I couldn't resist.

If you are young and someone says, "I have a fun idea," my advice is to run like the wind. Drugs and needles can only get you in trouble.

This woman had a little too much fun in the 60s.

Get that Needle Away from Me

The Belle was a nurse. Needles were a constant companion in her life. Her only fear of needles was that the incompetent nurse or tech would stab her repeatedly trying to find a viable vein. We used to joke that the only person we could trust was the nurse in our doctor's office. She was a miracle worker when it came to finding a vein for the Belle.

I'm thinking of the Belle today because it seems to be a medical week. A girlfriend had a procedure yesterday. When they use words like "punch" or "puncture," I want to run. She's brave and stuck it out. When they use the word "biopsy," I want to run like the wind.

I had a teensy procedure this morning. When I asked my doctor, "Will it hurt?" She said "Yes, but not much." If the Belle were here, she would've insisted on going with me and that's one more battle we would have endured.

Hangdog never went to the doctor without her at his side. Of course, he could not drive himself. Even if the husband or I took him, she went along.

Their dentist did this really cool thing. He would schedule side-by-side appointments so the Belle and the Captain could get their cleanings and exams at the same time. Isn't is nice when professional people are accommodating?

Our primary care physician (saint-in-training) would often examine them at home or fit them in for a last minute office visit. He also held our hands and guided us through the maze of hospitals, hospice, VA care, assisted living and more.

That little needle headed my way isn't quite the problem it used to be.

Optional Surgery

I've had my tonsils removed. I've had a few lumps or strange spots removed. I've done the days when you wait for the biopsy results. I've had dye run through some of my organs and I got to watch it on a TV screen. Call me crazy but this is not my idea of a good time.

As you know, I am terrified of needles. This does not stop me from doing routine blood work or getting a flu shot. But, I'm pretty sure I would never choose to have someone shove a needle in my arm. Let alone, take off my face and then stitch it back together.

At this age, many people I know choose elective surgery. They have themselves shot with Botox or some other gravity-defying drug. They have their eyebrows lifted. They have face lifts. They have major peels which basically involves watching your face fall off in sheets.

I'm pretty sure all of these procedures involve needles so I'll pass. I'm following the path of the Belle.

One of my girlfriends went to the doctor and was concerned about aging and various lines. Instead of accepting the big check, her doctor advised, "You are not going to stay out of the sun. You are going to continue to live the way you've chosen. You would be wasting your money." What a cool doctor!

The Belle kicked up her heels until the very end. Her lines and wrinkles were a badge of honor. She earned them.

I think I've earned mine too.

Piercings and Tattoos

Considering my fear of unnecessary use of needles, even I'm amazed that I have pierced ears. My mom and I did this little venture together and held each other's hands. (This was back in the day when they stuck a cork behind your earlobe and jabbed it in.) I tried to flee after the first one was done but she was stronger than me. Plus, the whole adventure was my idea.

Needless to say, I do not have a tattoo. It's never going to happen.

I am not a teenager but I seem to know an awful lot of people who have chosen this version of self expression. I can't pick up People Magazine without some 20-year old, 40-year old, 60-year old wearing a gorgeous dress and showing the world her ink work. I turn the page quickly.

I worked in one of those middle-of-the-mall jewelry stands when I was about 15-years old. The only reason I got the job was it required a steady hand with the engraving pen and the owner liked my handwriting.

By then, that ear-piercing gun contraption had been invented and he informed me that I would also be required to perform that task. There was an exchange student at our school and some of my friends brought her in after hours so I could pierce her ears. She said, "Now I am like cow." (For you non-farm people, that's how they used to identify cows -- tag them in the ear.")

I'm very relieved that no one was into tattoos during that time.

Looking in the Mirror

I can't figure out when I started avoiding the mirror. It's been several years. I can actually do my hair and put on a slight bit of make-up without ever seeing my reflection. If eye liner is required, I can do it in 5 seconds, minimizing the mirror time.

I'm not fat and I'm reasonably toned for my age. Those three-way mirrors in the department stores are depression on a cracker. That's probably why I don't shop. I have a full-length mirror in my closet and I avoid it like I avoid birds. It gives me the creeps.

I'm not afraid of aging -- I just don't want to watch. I've earned every line. I laugh and cry often and those are the lines I'm most proud of. I could pack a lunch in my forehead but I tell myself that it just means I'm expressive.

God willing, I've got some time to go. I'm terrified of needles so I don't see any plastic surgery in my future.

Some people tell me I look exactly like my mom. They're wrong but I'll take the compliment. Sometimes, people tell me I am the female version of my dad. Ok, he's darn cute so I'll take the compliment. Once I took my Uncle Ken and Aunt Cess to the husband's office. She's my dad's sister. Everyone said, "You look so much alike. This must be your mother." I'll take the compliment.

The oldies have one of those magnifying mirrors. Can you imagine?

Practicing

When I was in kindergarten, you had to pass some basic skills test to graduate to grade school. One of these skills was skipping. I couldn't do it. I did some weird combination of a 1/2 skip, walk and jump. So, my diligent parents proceeded to skip around the house until I finally got it. I have no idea why this is such a vivid memory but it cracks me up to this day.

In my dancing days, my mother would pick me up from class and we would often stop at the grocery. I would be practicing my grand jetes through the aisles until she rapped me on the head. I used to be able to tuck my ankles behind my head. My dad would say, "The boys will love you." (He was KIDDING!) My mom would smack him on the head.

In grade school, I had to go to the doctor for booster shots. My mom caught me sterilizing a safety pin with alcohol and sticking myself. (I HATE NEEDLES.) She was appalled. I was practicing. (I told you I'm slightly autistic.)

I think the days of putting my ankles behind my head are over. I must be better about my fear of needles because I can stand a shot or having blood drawn, although I still hate it. I can still skip. I skip out on the oldies all the time.