Ephemeral art and agelessness

Someone has been having fun with fall foliage and other tree droppings on campus these past few days. Yesterday as Hubby and I made our way up the walkway to the upper parking lot, we commented on the beautiful curving zigzag of yellow leaves decorating the path. This morning the rain had taken it apart and there was little indication that the ephemeral artwork had been there. But as I walked over the little bridge leading up to the theatre entrance, I saw another arrangement of sticks among the pine needles littering the ground. It looked like a spoked wheel and I would have missed it if its regularity hadn’t somehow clashed with the randomness of the other detritus.

I saw the doctor this morning. She took my blood pressure (108 over 68, which is excellent, thank you), looked in my ears, my eyes, my mouth, listened to my detailed account of my pain, had me push against her hands with my arms and elbows and hands, pushed and prodded my neck, and then diagnosed my problem as being inflammation and irritation of a particular nerve that comes out of the base of the skull (blessed with the name of Arnold) and wraps up the sides of the head. She prescribed anti-inflammatory drugs to be taken twice daily for 10 days and gave me exercises to do that will strengthen my neck, and hopefully that will be that. Hopefully.

As I was waiting for my prescription to be filled at the drugstore, the pharmacist found me while I was perusing the hair dye aisle and asked if the prescription was for me. I assured her it was. So she asked me for my date of birth and my address, and then said that the name on file belonged to a 51-year-old woman. I said, “Yes, that’s me.” She just looked at me as though this could not be. I will admit that I appear young for my age, but not that young. Well, maybe she just hadn’t looked closely enough. But that incident put me in a good mood for the rest of the day.

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