Thursday, April 03, 2008


Eavesdroppers may only hear bad things about themselves, but they often hear interesting things about other people. Today in the back room -- where all the social workers except the program director, Sally, have cubicles -- I overheard Melanie calling the benefits department. It's not staffed by the brightest lights at the agency, so she had to speak loud and slow. And give her birth date. Two years, two weeks, and two days after mine.

I wasn't sure how old she was -- she's got some gray coming in at her temples and a few lines on her face -- and I was kind of hoping she was older than I am. No such luck.

It doesn't really matter -- Sally is actually several years younger than Melanie. And everyone thinks I'm about 10 years younger than I am -- at least until I tell them otherwise. The newest (and hottest) social worker on the team, who started just over a month ago and is much younger than I, was shocked to learn my real age.

I don't mind being my age, as long as I don't look it. My development has probably been somewhat arrested by my illness, so I certainly don't feel my age -- I feel much younger. Except when my knees and my back hurt, or I'm feeling really depressed and hopeless. Then I feel about 9000 years old.
Copyright (c) "Ayelet Survivor"

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