Pains in the . . .

 

 

I have reached the age where I can still do things, but parts of my body don't cooperate the way I think they should.

I am not claiming that I'm a senior citizen by any means, although my husband, Dan, and I receive fliers from AARP and hearing institutes way too often.

I'm just saying I notice a difference these days. 

For example, I was leading my choir in our morning "aerobics" (an energizing movement activity prior to vocal warmups), and I pulled a muscle in my shoulder just by lifting my arms. I have been doing the same choir aerobics for over twenty years, and suddenly, at age forty-four, I pulled a muscle.

On a side note, we do our choir aerobics to Weezer. It makes my GenX heart happy to hear the kids sing along with Buddy Holly.

 

A few days later, I pulled a muscle in my neck while teaching the second graders a song called, "Hip Hop Bunny." I may or may not have been bobbing my head in the style of A Tribe Called Quest.

As I struggle to jump up off the floor like I did in my early days of teaching, sixth graders whine constantly about their feet falling asleep and feeling "creaky." 

 

You're eleven. Wait about thirty years.

 

 

I notice foot and toe pain when I run. I used to run six to eight miles in the summer without any foot problems. Now, I wear insoles under the ball of my foot.

 

I have tennis elbow, which my doctor says is very common with musicians. In fact, sometimes it's called "musician's elbow."

 

I have a stiff left hip and random aches and pains in my shoulder, and I have no idea where they came from or when they started.

 

 

Dan injured himself snowboarding the other weekend. Basically, he fell on his butt.

"Google says your bone could die if it's bruised," he said.

He was still getting around fine. He was able to walk and even jog, but every time he sneezed or bent forward, and his lower back twinged, it worried him because neither one of us is used to these weird, middle-aged aches and pains.

 

I was finally able to convince him to go to the doctor just so he would quit talking about dying bones. I was 99.99999% sure his bones weren't dying.

 

"If anything was fractured or cracked, you wouldn't be able to walk or jog in a normal way," the doctor told him. "It will take about four to six weeks to heal."

 

 

Last summer, I pulled a muscle in my calf after a really great trail run, again, something I had been doing for years. It happened right before we went on a fun, outdoorsy vacation with lots of hiking and mountain biking. That was awesome.

 

 

So, yes, my twenty and thirty-something friends, this is what you have to look forward to. I am just as physically active and in shape as I was back in my twenties and thirties (I may be in better shape now), but things don’t work quite the same. 

 

It's fine though. There are still ways to enjoy an active lifestyle (see picture below).

 

 

 

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.

The Adventure of the Malfunctioning Smoke Alarms

My husband, Dan, and I shouldn't be allowed to adult. 

 

We've never replaced our smoke detectors, and we've been living in our house for over 18 years. That’s close to twice as long as smoke detectors are supposed to last.

 

We're not very good at home stuff. 

 

I know now that you should replace your smoke detectors at least every ten years thanks to Google . . . and thanks to our malfunctioning smoke alarms adventure.

 

It began last spring. Dan was (and is still) working from home. After the house cleaners left every other week, Dan opened the windows and ran the fans per the suggested COVID protocols at the time. 

 

Soon after, all of the smoke detectors would start going off. This usually happened while Dan was in an online meeting with Korea or India. He tried taking out the batteries. That worked for about a half hour. Then the alarms went off again. 

 

"It was so disturbing," Dan said. "I could feel my heart racing. I think I jumped out of my chair." 

That's quite a reaction for my stoic, go-with-the-flow husband.

 

I experienced this phenomenon one day during spring break last year. It was one of the most frightening sounds I've ever heard.

 

He started turning off the circuit breaker to the alarms to get through the work day. For obvious safety reasons, I would not recommend this as a long term solution.

Eventually, he quit opening the windows and running the fans, and he changed the batteries in the alarms that were chirping. This seemed to work for a while.

 

Until one night a couple of weeks ago . . . 

Both of us were sleeping soundly, which hasn't always been the case this past year.

 

 

Around midnight, I was jolted out of my sleep by a chirp that had made it into a dream I was having. I lay still for a moment and heard the chirp again. 

I punched Dan and told him to listen. The detector chirped again, and Dan got up and changed the battery. Thinking all was well, we went back to sleep.

 

Suddenly, all the alarms were blaring at once. 

 

We jumped out of bed and ran around the house, half asleep, not quite sure what was happening. 

 

"WHY ARE THEY DOING THIS? YOU JUST CHANGED THE BATTERY! WHY IS THIS HAPPENING?" I yelled. 

 

Dan pulled the detector off the ceiling, also not recommended, and the screaming alarms stopped.

That weekend, Dan replaced all of the detectors. We wore earplugs just in case.

So far, it seems to have worked, but we are extra sensitive to strange sounds now. 

 

We were watching the news the other night, and one of the anchors was on a zoom call with another person. We kept hearing the familiar chirping coming from somewhere.

 

"That's coming from that guy's house, right? Not ours?" I asked. 

 

"Pretty sure . . . " Dan said.

 

We haven't tested the new alarms either because we're traumatized.

 

"I don't want to hear that sound again yet," Dan said.

 

 

 

The other night, I spilled some pizza sauce in the oven, and smoke wafted out as I opened the door. I closed it immediately.

 

“Dan, what do I do? I don't want to set off the smoke alarms!”

 

“Guess we’ll test them out now,” he said.

We ran the exhaust fan above the stove and took the pizza out.

 

For a moment, we froze, thinking we heard chirping from the other room, but nothing came of it. Apparently, we’re hearing phantom smoke alarm sounds now.

Our smoke alarm fail is not something I am proud of. I am fully aware that it could have been less quirky adventure and more tragedy. Please don't try this at (your) home.

For the latest blog updates, visit and "like" Rebecca Turner-Duggan.