"Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. Delicious Ambiguity." ~ Gilda Radner

Friday, June 22, 2012


It's official.

I'm old.

I'm old, and getting older. And shorter.

Yes, I'm shrinking. Just like I always heard happens when you get old.


Had to go to the doc yesterday for my annual Well Woman exam. It was long overdue.

How long overdue?  Beats me. Can't remember when I had my last mammogram and physical. Which is why, next to the question, "When was your last mammogram?" on the medical history/information sheet, I shamefully scribbled, "God only knows." And to the question "Date of last pelvic exam?" "Pffft"

(I was able to report, however, the helpful health history tidbit that I do recall that I had my tonsils out in 1964 in a hosptial in Cincinnati, though for the life of me I could not recall the surgeon's name.)

Anyway, first things first. The always-dreaded weight check. Reluctantly dragged myself up onto the scale. No news there. Every last Snickers Ice Cream Bar accounted for.  The jovial medical assistant jotted down my weight and then said, "OK! Let's see how tall you are!"

Sure!  Why not! No harm in a height check.

"You're 5'2 1/2", stated the jovial medical assistant.


"But...but...I'm 5'3 1/2," I  stammered. "I've been 5/3 1/2 since seventh grade!"

Surely, she had meaured wrong.  Maybe I was slouching. I asked her to measure my height one more time. Just to be sure. She sweetly obliged.

Five foot two and a half. On the nosey.

Slouch Schmouch. Damn. I've actually lost a whole freaking inch! Just call me Shrinking Violet.

Where did it go? When did it happen?

I shoulda known. Looking back, all the telltale signs of height loss have been there. Having to move the car seat up twice as far to reach the gas pedal, for instance. Suddenly having to stand on a chair to reach the wine glasses on the top cupboard shelf.

Heavy sigh.

Dear me, if I continue to lose height, with each passing Well Woman exam, it will take me even longer to scooch down to the end of the examination table to stick my feet in the stirrups.

Damn menopause. Guess it really it really is all over once the estrogen packs its bags and high-tails it outta town.

Today, height loss; tomorrow, the nursing home.

So this is why they call it a Well Woman check-up...

 "Well, Woman, you're shrinking. You are officially old. Kiss your bone mass goodbye."


1 comment:

Katie Berg said...

Hilarious, woman!! Could the doc have been Dr. Pfister?!