These Old Bones
Oh my, seems I’ve lost my height!
Doc, please tell me, “What is the source of my plight?”
“Tis true, you’ve lost three inches,” she said to me.
But doc, “How could this be?”
“It happens after menopause, you see.”
“Well, pshaw! That’s a fact unbeknownst to me.”
“To make matters worse, your bones are quite fragile.
You’ll no longer be quite as agile.”
“I have a solution. It’s easy-peasy, you’ll see.
I must remind you, though, it won’t be free.”
“Daily injections in your tummy for two years are the recommended cure.
The medicine rebuilds your bone; of that, I am sure.”
“Doc, I am distressed, for my trunk sits heavily on my inside.
My once flat tummy now bulges, a fact I cannot hide.
And my waistline is most certainly gone.
I’m angry, Doc, ‘cause I have the urge to pee all night long.”
“Nothing I can do about any of that, my dear.
Old age and gravity are the source of your ire. Acceptance is my advice, let me make that perfectly clear.”
“But injections? Are you sure, Doc, and for two years! What’s a gal to do?
Shrivel up? Fracture her spine? Break a hip? Become humped? No thank you!”
Seems I must accept my old age infirmities and these old bones. Aging and osteoporosis are my plight.
Now, acceptance, injections, rebuilding my bones, and standing upright have become my new fight.
Copyright ©
Sara Etgen-Baker
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