I’m 76. I
have no major ailments, take very few drugs. Twenty years ago I started a
women’s group on the general theme of women, aging, and sex. When people
started offering me seats on the subway, I usually declined: I was fine. I
didn’t need a seat. I wasn’t old.
A few years
ago I developed a spinal stenosis, which causes me sciatic pain in my leg. I’ve
been going to physical therapy off and on since, and have so far managed to
keep the pain under control through stretches and exercise. It’s not
continuous, it doesn’t always bother me. Until a few months ago.
In
mid-April I had a bad cold, very low energy, and a lot of work. I stopped the
exercises and stretches. Once I recovered, I was in the midst of a heavy
freelance workload (which happens every April and May) and couldn’t get back
into the stretches-and-exercise regimen. By mid-June, the leg pain had become
severe. Back to physical therapy. Back to gym.
This week
I’m working at an office, and had to bring my laptop, which now is much easier
via a wheeled backpack. People recently have offered to help me with the
wheeled backpack when I have to go up stairs. Today rain was threatened, so I
brought my umbrella. On my way to the gym, I came out of the subway to rain. So
I’d have to go up the stairs carrying the wheelie AND carrying my umbrella. I
looked at the stairs. I paused. And a young woman behind me asked if I needed
help with the wheelie. Without hesitation, I said, “Yes! Thank you.”
I
walked up the stairs. The young woman carried the wheelie. I thanked her again
at the top of the stairs. But as I continued along to the gym, I felt old
