Nowhere else to live

By Therese

I am 74 years old and if there is one piece of wisdom I wish to impart onto younger folks, it is this:

“Your body is not something you can neglect and expect to function perfectly forever!”

For most of my life, I treated my health as tomorrow’s problem because, to be honest, I wasn’t that unhealthy when I compared myself to other people.

Healthy eating was something I would focus on when Monday came around, after Christmas, after my holiday, after the family had visited, after life became less busy etc. etc. Exercise was something I was always going to start next week, of course and I did do a few aerobics classes to my credit. But nothing consistent and always more halfhearted than vigorous. 

I wasn’t reckless. I wasn’t someone who lived on takeaway food or spent my life sitting on the sofa drinking wine and eating chocolate. But I never made my health a priority either. For example I never gave my body a break from three or four meals a day and never walked everywhere, even to the local shops, preferring to take the car.

For decades, my body was remarkably forgiving.

Then 2021 arrived.

I won’t go into every detail but my health deteriorated far more quickly than I could keep up with after I foolishly allowed a certain concoction to be placed into my arm. I’m sure you understand all these years later just how foolish that was and I regret it bitterly to this day.

I’m afraid that I am one of the lucky ones compared to so many around me but despite that my body was suddenly and clearly no longer my friend. Among other things I suffer from extreme fatigue, aching joints, arthritis in my hands, headaches and a few minor issues with my lungs. Of course my doctor wanted to put me on all kinds of pills, all of which I refused with a few harsh words. Foolish it would be now to trust those who acted with such immorality then. As I told her through clenched teeth, before never returning.

That year in particular frightened me. I felt like my time was almost up and that there was no way back from this. Then it angered me as I realised it was a deliberate act by the powers that be. Of course I cannot go into detail in this email and so many won’t believe what I’m saying anyway, so pointless to even try to convince them of the whole sorry saga. I know what I know and that is what matters.

The point is that I remember sitting in my kitchen one morning, feeling terribly sorry for myself as I drank a cup of tea and dunked a few biscuits, wondering how bad things always seem to happen to good people. My fingers were so painful after nibbling those biscuits, that as I brushed the scattering of sugar off the table a thought occurred to me.

“Stop treating your body like you have somewhere else to live. Time is running out. Stop doing nothing and start doing something!”

I had spent years acting as though my body was temporary accommodation, that I could ignore the necessary maintenance and deal with the consequences later. But the consequences had been thrust upon me and this body is all I have – there isn’t another waiting for me.

I didn’t make dramatic changes. At 69, heading into 70, I wasn’t interested in suffering punishing diets or impossible fitness challenges. I simply began treating myself better in both body and mind. I set about researching and from that point focused on bringing the inflammation in my body down, then down some more. 

I walked – very gently at first – whilst my joints hurt so much. It got a little easier and so I pushed to walk a little farther each morning.

I started paying attention to what I ate and cut sugar completely from my diet, which I have to say must be the number one best move I could have made. Alcohol flares me up so I avoid it aside from on social occasions now. I added more nourishing foods and increased the number of hours I don’t eat, cutting my meals to two and sometimes even one per day. I don’t sit about so much because I have more energy now. My lungs feel healthier and I’ve no issues going on that were anything like they were a few years ago.

When your health begins to decline, you realise how precious simple movement really is. When your health is taken from you by unruly overlords, you realise how lucky you are if you can get it even a fraction back. But I believe I’m getting there.

Being able to walk around the block. Being able to carry your shopping. Being able to climb the stairs. Being able to get up from a chair without effort. These things are not small. They are freedom. 

My health hasn’t returned to normal and no doubt never will. The damage is done and the anger remains simmering, though I’m doing the best I can to be positive. There have been improvements, mainly through reducing the inflammation in my joints.

Young people … please, please treat your body with utmost care. Think about every bite, every drop and every microgram of medicine you put into your precious system. Don’t just swallow a pill mindlessly without researching exactly what it is that you’re taking and what the short- and long-term effects might be. If in doubt, do nought, as my mother used to say. Don’t believe what you’re told by those who stand to gain and don’t be afraid to say no.

Looking after yourself is a responsibility and your future self deserves the effort.