Reading Glasses

It all started with the reading glasses. I woke up one morning and realized I could no longer read without holding the reading material at arms length and shining a very bright light on it. So Brenda started me out with a brand new pair of 1.25s. For Christmas she got me one of those little lights you clip on the bill of your ball cap. Now, when I’m wrenching on something out in the garage, I wear my little light on my hat and hang the 1.25s on my nose and I’m good to go.
My back started hurting last fall and I ignored it like I have always done. Even when I could hardly put my socks on in the morning I told myself it would get better soon, like it always has. Even when we got a foot of snow that hurt me to shovel, I figured sooner or later it would heal up and be as good as new.
One day last week I woke up in the night and it was not bladder related (maybe that is actually where it all started). My back hurt really bad and now my hip hurt and my leg hurt! Brenda had been encouraging me to go to the chiropractor. I finally made an appointment and hobbled over to his office. After the first treatment I felt so much better! A day later I was working outdoors and made a one-handed snatch and grab maneuver on something heavy like I’ve always done. The pain shot through my back and leg like a bolt of lightning and really got my attention. I was reminded of the C.S. Lewis quote:
"God whispers to us in our pleasures,
Speaks to us in our conscience,
But shouts to us in our pains;
it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world."
I was also reminded of my recent debate with my imaginary antagonist: "can life-change occur without crisis?" This pain was a crisis. I was hurting and in danger of missing the mission trip that I had been preparing for.
I hobbled and winced my way back to the chiropractor for my follow-up visit a few days later and got a little relief. I also got a back-brace. That was a pretty humbling experience. I’m standing there shirtless in this guy’s treatment room with my drawers down around my knees when the doctor reaches around me and installs this big black elastic and velcro thing around my waist, then helps me pull up my pants. So now I’m wearing supportive garments! The doctor tells me that a little exercise is good, but to avoid sudden or strenuous movements. On the way home I’m imagining myself taking therapeutic walks around the block under the supervision of my nurse. The back brace has forced me to discover something I’ve occasionally wondered about but never before investigated: the fly on my briefs is actually functional (barely). Brenda told me the back brace would be more comfortable if I wore sweat-pants instead of jeans. So now I’m shuffling around the block wearing sweat-pants? What’s next?
So this crisis has forced me to acknowledge something that the sudden flood of AARP literature in my mailbox did not: I’m getting older. I may, in fact, have encountered a significant milestone.