I Became An Old Person Today.

My struggle will soon be your struggle, but you'll probably handle it so much better..

I became an old person today.

A few weeks back, I received a random call form my doctor's office. Apparently, he wanted to schedule a routine check-up, as it had been several months since I last saw him. Fair enough I suppose, but of course the inside of my mind immediately started ricocheting reasons why I should be panicked about this from every direction; was I supposed to get blood work done and I forgot? Have I tested positive for something I don't deserve to have? Did he just discover that concussion I got in the sixth the grade is the reason I'm so socially awkward today? Nope. He just wanted my $20 co-pay and whatever else he charges my insurance. Fair enough. See you in a couple weeks.

I thought very little of it, forgetting it actually, until my cell phone reminded me the night before and I called my boss to confirm that I hadn't abandoned my job, but might in fact be a couple hours late tomorrow.

I got a spot right in front of the office, which was a much better turnout than the last time I tried to visit and they had the damn Space Shuttle parked where I usually do. Seriously. This is what happens in LA when you aren't paying attention. It had just landed at LAX and was being driven like a very large minivan to the museum up the street, with one brief stop in my parking space so I could have just a little more time to enjoy the migraine that brought me there in the first place. But that was then. Now I'm here for no reason that I'm aware of, and I'll probably just use the opportunity to flaunt what is undoubtedly the lowest weight since I began seeing him nearly ten years ago. Finally, a visit where he doesn't get to tell me I need to start watching my weight. I STARTED, okay? So up the stairs to his office, leaving me winded as usual, but taking an elevator in a doctor's office just makes it seem like you've already given up. I pant down the hall, dragging my feet like I just pulled a beached whale back into the surf, and into the office, where I immediately drop off my admission money and wait to throw my svelte new figure in his judgmental face.

After sifting through some important news about a Kardashian or something, it was my turn, and I sprinted into the inner sanctum for the pre-fight weight-in. I proudly hopped off the scale, and was told to go into room number one and sit on the chair. The chair? But I usually sit on the bed thing with the paper.. I always sit on the paper.. Suddenly my thoughts changed violently. Am I being LET GO? This can't be right. I headed in and sat on the chair, which was even less comfortable than that model chair usually is, because is wasn't the bed thing and it had no paper. Ew. How many sick people have sat on this chair? Hopefully the nice lady taking my blood pressure didn't know how completely crestfallen I was by being banished to the chair. The chair isn't for the guy being examined! It's for the parent! The legal guardian! The guy holding his walker for him while he's on the paper! Why am in the two slot? I paid good money to be on the paper! Now I'm angry, and a little panicked, but I mustn't let them know.

After a couple minutes, which I used to cool down, the doctor came in and I stood to greet him with a handshake as I always do. He asked me dated questions that I had answered many times before and he knew the answers to anyway, as they were all right there on his computer monitor. It was almost like forcing a chat with a nephew you haven't seen since he was nine. So.. How are your studies? Drinking plenty of water? Seriously, doc, what are we doing here? After we got him up to speed on what we both already know about me..

That's when it happened.

"Your blood pressure is still a little high."

Now, in the past, this has been a passing moment, a glancing blow on the way to bigger and better news..

But that was the end of the sentence.

My blood pressure. A little high?

"I'm going to give you something to take every day so we can get that down a bit."

Whoa. What? I don't think you know what you just said, doc. I'm sure you just toss prescriptions around all day like the Pilled Piper, but do have any idea what you just did here? I take the occasional med when I need it. If I can't get to sleep, I enjoy an Ambien, if I develop a Migraine, a delicious Imitrex for me, if my legs start working on their own routine without my knowledge, there's an app for that too, but I have never, NEVER, been chained down to a REQUIRED, PILL-A-DAY regimen. I just sort of nodded blindly, like I was on auto pilot, but the whole time, my brain was just flashing the same message over and over like the news ticker in Times Square: "JONATHYN BROWN IS IN MEDICATION TO REGULATE HIS HEART. HE IS NO LONGER ALIVE BY HIS OWN FREE WILL, AND MUST TAKE ONE OF THESE PILLS EACH DAY OR HE WILL DIE INSTANTLY.. THIS JUST IN, JONATHYN BROWN IS OFFICIALLY OLD…"

All the signs have been slowing popping their heads up one by one like a game of geriatric whack-a-mole; lines around the eyes, thinning hair, mystery cracking noises in the bones, and probably an actual mole somewhere. It never bothered me.. Bu now, one month shy of my 44th birthday, this is the first time I actually feel.. old.

I'm not going to lie to you. I was legitimately emotional about this. I felt tears coming to my eyes as I wandered into the drug store to pick up my heart pills. I was tempted to ask for one of those motorized carts. While standing in line, I found myself looking at the rack of glasses with the magnifications written on them in giant print. I wondered which magnification would be best for me. Then my name was called, and I got my medication, along with a long involved speech from my helpful pharmacist on how and when to take them, of which I didn't hear I word, because I could hear was my own brain telling me that it wasn't that long ago when the pharmacist as younger than me. Now, I have a recent college graduate telling me how to avoid breaking my hip when I slowly shuffle my way down to the local shops to enjoy an egg cream. I'm lying to you if I say the rest of the day, up to this very minute, wasn't a total blur. I went back to work, and I may or may not have made some grand deals with vendors that will make us thousands of dollars.. Perhaps I just stared at a blank screen and listened to the Glenn Miller channel on Pandora. I won't know until tomorrow when I return, an old, withered shell of my former self, no longer the spry young hotshot who always had a punch line on the ready for a friend and a fine how-do-ya-do for a stranger. No. That guy is gone now, or at least he's leaving.. one day at a time, a little further away each morning, with a full glass of water.

I'll miss him.