Essentially, getting older isn't for wimps

Two months from my 40th birthday, I've never looked or felt better.

Considering my high school and college years, this is pretty remarkable. I used to scare people with oversized T-shirts, an abrasive attitude and hair that could withstand 50-knot winds.

After discovering exercise, obtaining a decent wardrobe allowance and growing my hair down instead of out, I finally became a bit of a babe.

So naturally something had to be wrong.

I faced my first abnormal pap smear. Then, I dealt with the indignity of a colposcopy without cocktails.

After several days of worrying and revising my eulogy, I got a call from my gynecologist's medical assistant. She said no signs of cancerous cells could be seen.

"The results are essentially negative."

Blink. Blink. Blink.

"Essentially negative?" I said. "What does that mean?"

"You should come back in six months just to be sure."

I didn't want to go all Woody Allen on her, but when did we stop getting a clean bill of health from our physicians? Somewhere in my 30s, the need to clarify began.

"You tested negative for lupus, but that doesn't mean you don't have it."

Essentially.

I'm not yet 40 and can't remember the last time my doctor handed me a lollipop and cheerfully remarked, "With that body, a winning smile and impressive central nervous system, you're gonna live forever!"

I'm not sure whether it's the sight of my spider veins, argumentative streak or general malpractice concerns that trigger such pessimism in medical professionals. I know I'm getting older, but if a test comes back benign, what's the harm in shaking your groove thing and celebrating a little?

Essentially.

I hung up and, as if on cue, the phone rang again.

My primary care physician called to talk about lab results from a recent checkup.

"I've got to stop scheduling these appointments back-to-back," I said. "You guys are killing me."

Turns out I have something called hypothyroidism.

"That sounds familiar," I said.

"Family history?" she asked.

"Probably." I cursed all my female relatives, dead or alive. "I'm getting everything now that those broads got in their 60s and 70s!"

My primary care physician didn't know what to do with that information.

I mulled for a moment.

I'm a muller.

"So macular degeneration and congestive heart failure is next," I said and sighed. "Blind as a bat and trying to pull a thong over adult diapers is not how I envisioned my 40s."

Perhaps I'm being overdramatic. After a bit of research, I discovered I exhibit none of the symptoms related to hypothyroidism. Most patients suffer from:

Being overweight

Physical weakness

I have the same rear-end I had in junior high, can keep up with two 9-year-old boys without using stimulants and regularly open jars of pickles on my own.

Depression

Mood swings

These are my favorite character traits. What mother isn't irritable? Unpredictable mood swings keep my kids in line.

Absentmindedness

OK, yesterday I put tampons in the pantry and croutons under the bathroom sink.

Decreased libido

Double gulp.

In my defense, I've been preoccupied with that alarming pap smear. Did my husband write this list?

Doc recommended a medication: Synthroid. If the magic pills work, Synthroid and I will be together the rest of my life.

Not one to jump into any serious commitment, I scheduled another blood test and a consult with a respected dietitian. My doctor sighed.

"A faulty thyroid can lead to all kinds of heart and sight disorders."

"Hey!" I shouted. "Call the guys I dated in college. Pressuring me will get you nowhere."

As always, I felt better after talking with friends. Essentially. But what happened to us? My girls and I used to discuss hot men, kissing and Bon Jovi. Now we're wondering which meds can be taken with wine.

In other words, we're all a mess.

Maybe it comes with age.

Therefore, as long as I can continue to wear a thong and open a jar of pickles, I will shake my groove thing and celebrate a little.

Essentially.

Catherine Durkin Robinson is a busy mom and freelance writer living in Tampa. In her spare time, she investigates missing socks. Her column runs every other Saturday in 4you. Visit her online at www.outinleftfield.com.