When I got up this morning, I remembered that I must take my weekly dose of Fosomax. I have been taking this once a week, or try to, since I was diagnosed with the early stages of osteoporosis a few years ago. It’s taken on an empty stomach with a full glass of water. I cannot lie down or bend over for half an hour after taking it.
I was pretty cocky about not having osteoporosis, right up until the minute I was told I was on the cusp of having it. As a quite heavy woman, I thought I would not get that porous weakening of the bones that skinny women get. I had read that heavy women, who have more estrogen stored in their fat cells, are less likely to get it.
That was a fool’s delusion. I’d had to undergo estrogen reduction 10 years after menopause, so I was susceptible to bone thinning anyway. I had a full body scan that showed my bones were beginning to be less dense.
I should have known. Like most people who notice unpleasant things about their health, I had avoided considering that I was shrinking. I lost about two inches in height over a decade. For someone who once came close to being 5′ 3″, that was a devastating loss. The shorter one is, the harder it is to do things other people take for granted. It was a sign that I had ignored.
I am afraid now of falling. I once rode in an ambulance with my 80-year-old grandmother, many years gone now, who had fallen and broken her hip on a patch of ice. Late today, I went out to drag my can of garbage to the street. I saw full long patches of ice in the drive and drifts of snow that probably obscured others.
I called my snow removal guy to come and take care of the snowdrifts, and entreated him to take out my garbage for me in the morning. I went part way down the driveway with the heavy can before asking him. I am embarrassed to have to ask someone, but it is better than a broken hip.
I am due this year for another body scan. I hope it shows the weekly drug therapy I have been taking has done its job. Time marches on. Modern medicine holds it partly at bay.