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THRU THE LOOKING GLASS
27 May 2003
I feel like I've tumbled down the rabbit hole. I'm standing,
like Alice, with cookies labeled "eat me" in each hand, wondering which to
bite...and feeling like I took a bite of the wrong one.
Now that we have our new bone density machine up and running, we're
starting to get a routine established, forms created, the office set up efficiently, etc.,
"C" moved the scale from Dr. G's office into the DEXA room
so that she could weigh patients, which is an important thing to know when you're about to
calculate someone's bone density.
Another important number to know is height. Dr. G has been looking
for some sort of measuring implement to attach to the wall so C could measure the
patients, but he finally gave up and resorted to the "family" method--he made
marks on the wall with a magic marker.
I have to admit that I was kind of glad he got the measuring wall
set. After a certain age, somehow being measured on your birthday stops being something
you look forward to--or even need to do. Once you've reached your full height, there's no
point in a yearly height check.
I've also had my own bone density checked. As the office guinea pig,
I've been checked. And checked. And checked. We know more about my bones in the office
than a paleontologist knows about the latest Tyrannesaurus Rex leg bone.
One of the signs of osteoporosis (or the osteopenia which preceeds
it) is the loss of height--all those brittle bones kind of settling in on each other.
Weight bearing exercise helps prevent osteoporosis and as I've been bearing more weight
than the common person for a very long time, my bones are just fine, thankyouverymuch.
It's the only useful thing I've discovered yet about being overweight--great bones.
But still, I am 60 and I was curious to see whether I still
measure the same height.
"Measure me," I said to Dr. G, as he was capping the
Sharpie. I felt like a little kid on her third birthday.
"How tall are you?" he asked. "5' 5" tall?"
I laughed. "No. 5' 7½"," I told him.
"No way," he said. "There is no way you
are 5' 7½'"
But...but...I've been 5' 7½" all my life. It says so on my
medical chart. It says so on my driver's license (or whatever other public documents
require you to list your height). It was fun thinking that I'd prove him wrong.
I backed up to the wall. He got the ruler to measure and.... 5'
Huh? I've shrunk two inches??? How did that happen?
I thought about the time recently when Walt walked into the kitchen,
looked at me, and asked "when did you get so short?"
I thought back to the slacks I was given for Christmas and how I had
to have them shortened.
Have I nibbled the wrong side of the "eat me" cookies?
I've shrunk 2 inches and my feet have grown. I used to wear size 7½
shoes and now, if I'm lucky, I can squeeze into 10½, but more often I have to try to find
11s (and try finding size 11 shoes in anything stylish!).
I have big feet.
If I start getting hairy ankles, I'm going to stop reading Tolkein