I got word yesterday that a woman I used to work with, only age 59, died of cancer after a short illness.  This news came from another lady, a client for years, whom I have shared a wild and wonderful boat cruise with in our late thirties, who was on her way to the doctor as she was feeling out of sorts after an operation to remove “suspicious” growths in her cervix a short while ago.

On Tuesday I chatted to another lady client, only to hear she is in hospital after an operation the day before.  She is slightly younger than me.   All this got me thinking that my husband’s words – “it is our time”, is becoming a reality as every day passes by.

My cousin just had some “bad cells” cut out on her nose – I smell a rat, as skin cancer is prevalent in our family.  My mother had it too, and her father died from it.  And so the list goes on….

It is our time to feel the bones get heavier to lift and move around, our time for muscles not to be as flexible as I can remember just a short while ago, our time to look in the mirror in horror and see a new wrinkle creeping into my once smooth facial complexion, another dark age-spot glaring at me where just yesterday I swear it was not there.  Now we should not even go down to the rest of the body.  The misery to see my once perky breasts, which even at my last mammogram about two years ago, were apparently, according to the doctor, as dense as a 25 year old’s, looking all the worse for gravity.  I need to lift and powder already like I can remember my mother did in order to prevent perspiration in the folds!  🙂

The folds on my back I must write down to the ever expanding forward pull of a mid-life, hormonal (that’s what the doctors say!) tummy that hides the six-pack that I used to have.  (It must still be there, perhaps I’ll coax it out again some day – ja ja, I know I last saw it about 10 years ago).  I even get chills down my spine looking at the pasty, dimpled tube, wondering when and how I let myself go like this, and remembering my disgust at seeing another then 50 year old woman’s dimpled tummy when I still had that flat tummy, and I clearly recall promising myself then that I’ll never look like that – famous last thoughts!  Part of the problem is (oh dear, am I looking for excuses!!), that I live on a farm and am not motivated enough to use the exercise equipment I have accumulated over the years, instead life has taken a turn where I hardly move around during the day, as I sit and communicate in my line of business on my P C almost the entire day.  After supper, with no other entertainment around for miles, I watch television more than ever before.  And of course it does not help that my favourite program now is MasterChef South Africa – all that delectable food preparations make my mouth water and tomorrow I eat even more.

Clothes are tight, therefore limiting my usable wardrobe, but I’ll be damned if I go and buy bigger sizes!!  I remember my female doctor telling me a few years ago when I complained that my tops and dresses just won’t go over my chest area anymore without pulling, that I will probably become one of those old ladies with the top-heavy bosoms, round tummies and stick legs.  At that time the picture was a foreign concept in my head, but hell yes, these days those prophetic words seem to be in the making as each day go by.

Yet, so far I count my blessings for not being sickly, and that every moving part still works – with groans and croaks some days, but I manage.

The time has arrived in our lives where we will see more and more of our peers leave this life, many to cancer (statistically proven to be the biggest killer still, and surprisingly a large percentage in women), and for those of us who live to see the next day, it is already a bonus.

Shocking to know that our ancestors barely lived to age 30, if lucky!  And for those of you who have not got the means to keep going financially whilst getting treatment for such a dreaded disease, please remember to take out insurance!!  (Sorry, I am a financial planner after all, and just had to add that bit!)

May your morning’s rise with stiff legs, toddling to the loo for that first morning wee, be short-lived as your muscles warm up with the passing day.  Take care, love the dimples, the extra curves, the soft tummy that is in any case the perfect spot for a grandchild to cuddle into,  (take note my children, I am ordering some here – at least they may make us feel younger again) and thank God for another day when you close your eyes tonight.

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