Growing older is a privilege. My knees disagree. | Lifestyles

I turned 45 last week. Considering the year I’ve had, celebrating another birthday felt like a gift.

Earlier this year, my doctor said the word “cancer,” and for a while another birthday didn’t feel guaranteed. Now I’m on the other side of surgery, focusing on healing, and blowing out candles with my family.

I’m filled with an abundance of gratitude.

That said, I think it’s safe to say my body’s warranty may have expired. I used to be able to get up and down without making any noises at all. Now I make a different sound depending on which joint is doing the lifting. There is the “oof” for getting out of bed, the “ugh” for bending over to pick something up and the tiny sigh I let out every time I realize I have to go back upstairs because I forgot my phone again.

At 25, a trip over a curb would elicit a laugh. At 45, I sleep wrong and spend three business days recovering. My body has software updates I never asked for and hot flashes arrive whenever they feel like it. My back likes to remind me that gravity is a thing and my hips have become amateur meteorologists. It’s been a humbling year.

However, the biggest surprise about turning 45 and beating cancer is that my perspective has changed. A year ago, I measured time by calendars and deadlines. Now I measure it by ordinary moments I almost overlooked. I mark my days by porch swings, good books and quality time with the ones I love.

Feeling well enough to take a walk, heading to the park or getting a good pathology report are the things I look forward to most now. I no longer take those ordinary moments for granted.

I’ve also realized my energy isn’t an unlimited resource anymore. I protect it now, along with my peace. I say no more often, worry less about things I can’t control, and spend less time trying to meet expectations that don’t really matter. Those gifts are the silver lining of getting older.

So yes, I joke that my warranty has expired. The check-engine light has definitely been on for a while, and it’s making a weird sound. Recovery takes longer than it should and isn’t a straight line.

But here’s the thing about expired warranties: they don’t mean you’re finished. They just mean maintenance gets a little more expensive. Even if my check engine light is on, at least I’m still on the road.

Pamela Chandler is a local mom who writes the Gem City Family column for the Dayton Daily News. Reach out to her at thechandlercrew3@gmail.com