Inside Matters

Dr. Winans is reviewing my shoulder x-ray. It hasn’t felt the same since I lugged eight bags of pine needles to the curb. “See this arthritis?” she says, pointing a pen at her computer screen. “We hope for more space here." She moves her pen. "And these bone spurs.” I sag a little in my seat next to her.

With a few clicks we’re now staring at the film of my knee. "Arthritis," is all she says, her pen tracing a white area in the joint. I ask, “Is this normal for someone my age?” I’m 59. “Yes,” she says.

Okay. As long as I don’t have the arthritis of an 80-year-old. I guess.

She brightens. “Your neck looks like the neck of a young person.” Reflexively, I grab my neck. Those lines, the thyroidectomy scar, the chins. Really? Then she points to the latest image on her screen. “See all the space between the vertebrae? Looks great.”

I feel dumb when I realize she’s talking about my bones. You know, that no one can see? Oh, silly me. What’s that old adage, It’s what’s on the inside that counts? Yeah, I’m hanging on to that.