Thursday, November 5, 2015

Muggy November 5th musings

I turn 46 tomorrow, dear reader. Now you know. I've entered old fart territory.
Yes, I know age is just a number. But still, forty-six. It's not a number that suggests leaping through meadows and climbing hills, at least not without a price to pay. That is, not being able to leap through a meadow or climb a hill again for at least six months, which is the time it takes for 46-year-old muscles, tendons and other assorted ligaments to recover from such youthful pursuits.
As I told a friend recently, "Sometimes I feel like I'm 25 again. Other times, I feel like I'm 100." That pretty much sums up how forty-five was for me. Get my drift?
So, as I wipe away the sweat in my thick moustache and beard that I've grown for "Movember", I reflect on my last day of being on the closer side to 40 than 50. I know that many of you will argue that I already am, given the rules of rounding up that we all learned in elementary school. And I agree. Just nod your head and humor this old man, alright?
So, why am I sweating, you ask? Good question. I will answer that.
One, London is having a remarkable Indian summer.  It's very mild and very humid.  It's 64 degrees Fahrenheit with a dew point to match. With blood already thickened from the onset of chilly mornings and evenings throughout September and October, this sudden onset of mugginess makes me break out in the profuse sweating that I am renowned for.  I can sweat in 0°F (-17°C) during a run.  I know, because I've done it before.  When I was still in my 20s albeit, but some things never change. (And, for clarification, this was when my place of residence on the globe was the Northeastern U.S., not London. If London ever achieved that temperature, it would make up the first six pages of every newspaper, I guarantee it.)
Two, I just got home from an appointment at the vascular clinic at the hospital. They performed a scan of the arteries in my neck to see if there was any evidence of arteriosclerosis occurring, given my high cholesterol count—which is inherited, by the way, and not the result of eating steak tips with melted Mozzarella every night. Not my fault. I was born with it.  Recent blood work indicates that my cholesterol count is on the way down, despite still being high, as a result of statins and that my liver is still in good condition. And the scan of the major arteries in my neck indicate no arteriosclerosis.
What an excellent birthday gift.
I offer all thanks to God for my still acceptable state of health, and I promise you, dear reader, I will return with entries about national/world events soon. There's a lot to discuss. I will do so very soon.


goddessdivine said...

Happy belated birthday!

It sucks getting old, doesn't it?

Nightdragon said...

Thank you, K.!

Yeah, but at least I have four years left, including this one, to be a forty-something. Still got some breathing room before the big 5-0 hits!