“Age is just a number,” says the well-worn adage. But is it a number you care about, or one you tend (or try) to ignore?
It’s been a very long time since I have posted here. I know, I know. It’s not that a lot hasn’t gone one lately, because there’s been plenty of things happening in my life. However, I just haven’t felt like I’ve had much to say. *shrugs*
This prompt comes at an interesting time for me. I am six days away from turning 33-years old. Or, as an old friend of mine taught me, in six days I am going to be celebrating the twelfth anniversary of my 21st birthday. lol I am really excited to be in my thirties! The reason I am so excited is quite simple. I was born in 1981 with Spina Bifida and when I was born, I wasn’t given very good prospects for quality of life. If I recall correctly, my mom was told that if I survived I would be a vegetable. I would never walk, talk, feed myself, mentally retarded, etc. Well, I can talk, I walked on crutches until I was sixteen, I can feed myself, I am most definitely not mentally retarded and, most importantly, I am alive. Yes, I use a wheelchair to get around, my joints ache more than they used to, I get exhausted much easier than I used to, and my health is something that I focus on quite often. But the main point is that I am alive! So yeah, I do care about my age since every time I have a birthday, that is one year longer than the doctors expected me to live when I was first born.