Ouch! That Really Hurts!

Age is not entirely a state of mind. There are physical manifestations of simply passing time. My wife was simultaneously amused and repulsed by the sight of me sitting on a sofa, enjoying a book by lamplight with the aid of little drugstore reading glasses. She felt compelled to document this occasion with her cell phone camera. Look, I don't want to take on the appearence of a codger, but I simply couldn't read that great little book with my contact lenses alone.
That was only the beginning. For a couple of months, I've been experiencing pain in my right hand. I figured it would go away on its own, but it didn't. When I was greeted recently with one of those firm "I'm a man's man" handshakes, pain shot straight up my arm and northward to my teeth. I decided I needed to see a doctor.
I worked my way in to see a veteran orthopedic surgeon, thinking I could get a cortisone shot and get all better in a couple of days. He grabbed my hand, put his finger on a spot and asked, "Is this where it hurts?" With some emphasis, I responded affirmatively, and he said, "Arthritis, my man."
Arthritis?!! That's a grandpa disease! I'm not a grandpa yet, although I'm looking forward to the day.
Another acquaintence of mine, who works in the doctor's office said, "Arthritis? That's mean." He stretched out the word "mean" like a singer on American Idol putting an unnecessary vocal run in a ballad.
There's not a lot they can do about it, except X-Ray it to help them determine exactly where to place the needle for that cortisone injection. That was "mean," too.
So, here I am...knocking on the door to 50 with reading glasses and arthritis. Can a cane and a lap blanket be far behind?
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For the record, the book was "Everything Hurts" by Bill Scheft, a happy coincidence. I loved that book and blew through it in two evenings.

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