The Old Man and The (Seizure of Youth)

It has kind of happened insidiously, but then it comes to fruition-what my elders and predecessors lamented about and what they heralded as a portent of things to come. The color of my hair is taking on ‘a whiter shade of pale.’ The visceral fat has become unrelenting in its accumulation. Chronic migraines assault my good senses. Major depression, anxiety, and panic attacks have laid siege to ambition and desire. I have a couple of hospitalizations under my belt, and at one time a cadre of medical specialists that I frequented. I was becoming a regular at the imaging office for MRIs. The jeremiad seems to grow with each trip around the sun.

When I show up on any given unit/ward in the hospital, more often than not, I am one of the eldest nurses in terms of both age and experience. Where did the sixteen years go? When was my youthful self seized and substituted with this anachronistic replica?

Perhaps that is not an entirely accurate way of looking at it, though. I’ve traded in naivete for discernment; judgment and shaming for compassion and understanding, amongst other things. I think it’s been a good trade, and I have gained more than I have forfeited. My outlook is not in spite of my circumstances, but rather, a product of them. It is the viewpoint that I choose.

The old man has seized my youth. My youth be damned.