Turning 50 brings unexpected gifts. Yesterday, I happily received my first shingles vaccine. Having had family members and friends who have gotten the actual shingles virus, and told me (and texted terrifying pictures) of the horrors of the ordeal that still end up in my nightmares (my uncle, a military veteran, who had gone through more health treatments than almost anyone I know, once emphasized to me, that shingles was by far, the worst experience of his life), I had no hesitancy about pulling up my sleeve for this one. I was one of those sheltered, late bloomers who didn’t get the chickenpox until I was in my early twenties. It was a beyond miserable trauma, and plenty enough for a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Since shingles is related to the chickenpox, I’m not taking any chances. When I was 48, I once went into a Walgreens and begged for the vaccine. (I even considered getting a fake ID – ha!) They turned me away. I had to be the magic age of 50.
I like that when you turn 50, you all of the sudden qualify for extra health treatments, like shingles vaccines and colonoscopies. These aren’t spa experiences, of course, but they are a measure of prevention. Telling me to get these procedures done, says to me, “Hey lady, you may becoming a little high-mileage, but you’re a classic. You are worth maintaining. We want you for the long haul.”
So, truthfully my arm hurts a lot, I’m a little achy all over, and I didn’t sleep very well last night, but it was worth it. I feel valued – by myself, and by my community. Sometimes, tender, loving care comes in all sorts of strange forms, but care is care. And care feels good.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.