I hate winter.
It’s cold, it’s windy and it makes me hurt more than any other time of year.
I am continually achy from the first freeze until spring finally takes over.
I hobble through the house, one hand on the small of my aching back, the other either on the wall or holding a cane.
I really hate the cold fronts that barrel in from the north.
There’s a joke around here that there is nothing but barbed wire between Canada and Oklahoma. It’s true.
I get a warning before the front gets here when my body starts its pre-front routine. My knees being to ache more than usual, then my hips get into the act.
Not to be ignored, my shoulders check in, then my hands.
My spine throbbing is the finale, and I go through this performance about once a week in winter.
I hate winter because my hands and feet are always cold. My feet are never bare in the winter, and I have gloves all over my house.
I have sweatshirts and sweaters galore and wear them with sweatpants. I use blankets like shawls.
My husband Kevin has a serious case of osteoporosis and his body talks to him too.
There are times when we moan in unison.
We call it our love song, and start taking our various pills to ease the aches.
I hate winter when it saps my already limited strength.
Most of the time I can do two things a day but in the winter it dwindles down to one. I have to plan what I’m going to do when and stick to the schedule. When it’s over, I have to go home and lie down.
The fatigue I fight all the time sneaks up on me. I never know when I’m going to run out of energy and need to rest. It might be in a mall, in a theater or at someone’s house.
I don’t do that in the summer, only when it’s cold.
Lastly I hate winter because it fools you. Last week we had two 70 degree days, then the bottom fell out and the temperature dropped like a rock. Ow, just Ow. Next week our weatherman forecasts two more days in the 70s.
Don’t tease me. Just let me get to spring, please.