Relativity

Old men pull wrinkled linen handkerchiefs from their pockets, cover their noses with them and blow. The image comes from my childhood, when I wondered why they didn’t just use disposable Kleenex, instead of returning to the same old rag.

Now I understand, because these days my nose runs all the time—when I’m cold, when I’m tired; after I’ve swum or during a workout; or when I’m doing nothing. I'm told it comes with age, susceptilitiy to allergens or whatever makes a nose drip. In any case, I'm always digging in my pockets for Kleenex or finding them destroyed, balled up and rock hard or, after having gone through the washer and dryer, plastered in long strips, like confetti, to my clothes

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So lately, handkerchiefs have begun to make sense. In fact, a lot of adjustments to the creeping changes of age are making sense. Like trying to avoid sneezing with a full bladder; being prepared to ask my teenage son to speak slowly, lest his blizzard of words blow by without releasing one identifiable sound; or having paper and pen nearby at all times, so I can write down important information, (hoping I will remember that I have written it down).

I’d like to blame all of these incremental changes on my post-op state and the medications that are keeping the swelling and pain at bay. But, they started long before my surgery. 

Of course, being post-op puts everything in a new light. I’m so thrilled to be walking again without arthritic pain and its telltale limp, that being a little slow, forgetful, deaf or short on bladder control doesn’t really matter.