Thread: Health Warning - Don't turn 30!

Around two months ago, I sat back and had a good look at my life. And I liked what I saw. I have a wife whom I love as much as the day I married her and a daughter who has a knack of turning me into a gibbering idiot whenever I see her. The house that we are paying off is decent without being flashy, as is the car that we own. I have a great job in an industry that I thoroughly enjoy, and work with a couple of great blokes, which means that Monday to Friday is not a grind. Life was good.

And as I sat back and reflected upon my general good fortunes, I made a decision. I decided that I was ready for the next stage in my life. I decided that I was ready to turn 30.

Now I please don’t get me wrong. I am not in the habit of going out and making hasty decisions about life’s big events. But I genuinely thought that I was ready to turn 30, and I made the decision that I would turn 30.

Sure enough, the day came around and there was much rejoicing. My wife and daughter gave me presents, as did my family and friends. There was a surprise party held in honour of my 30^th birthday, and much merriment did ensue.

But, my friends, I am here today to tell you that I was NOT ready to turn 30. It has become apparent that I was very hasty in my decision to be in my thirties, as you shall no doubt understand when you read what I have to say below.

On the morning of my 30^th birthday, I awoke with a sore back. I knew that I would wake with a sore back, as I had had it for the previous week, due to too much standing and also moving some very heavy machines in aid of the AWISA Show. As this was an injury that I had obtained when I was 29, I will not attribute this to turning 30, but it is important that you have this background knowledge.

So a sore back for a few days, which required some physio and some stretches at home. Saturday comes along, and the aforementioned wife had organised the aforementioned surprise party in honour of my decision to turn 30. Now I would hesitate to say I was drunk, but after around a dozen beers, I thought that dancing might be a good idea. Someone threw on ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ by Nirvana, and someone else started the ‘slam dancing’ (ask your kids…), I just joined in. I slammed into a nuggetty little mate of mine, and heard ‘CRACK’ and felt two ribs go. Again, I refuse to admit to intoxication, but I turned to the missus and said; “Thatsh gonna be shore indamorning” before grinning idiotically and finding another beer.

And I know that I wasn’t drunk, because I was right. It did hurt in the morning.

Actually come to think of it, I’m always right when I’m drunk anyway, so maybe I was….

So now I have busted ribs and a sore back. My busted ribs mean I can’t do my back stretches, so my back hurts more than it should. With a crook back and crook ribs, I can neither push nor pull, therefore rendering me useless when it comes to moving machines, or even myself.

I took myself to the Doc to find out if there was anything I could do for my ribs, and he looked at me square in the eye and said “Oooohh you’ve broken some ribs. That bloody hurts!” Thanks doc. He prescribed some pretty cool painkillers so that I could return to physio for my back.

So the back is feeling a bit better and the ribs are on the mend, when I get the dreaded lurgy. And I keep it for about three weeks. Ribs were almost healed, until I start coughing for three weeks. OUCH! Can you imagine sneezing and coughing when you have busted ribs? For three weeks??

Finally, after three weeks, I believed that I had shaken it, and I am ready to enjoy being 30. A whole week I had, where the only trouble was occasional cough left over from the lurgy. What a great week!

Then I started to feel lethargic. I was so tired. At times, my head felt separated from my body. My first Father’s Day was marred by what I initially thought to be a hang-over, only to feel it develop throughout the day as being some manner of virus. I worked the next two days, but Tuesday arvo I was crook. And I was in Newcastle and had to get home to the Blue Mountains. I don’t know how I did it, but I did. I slept for about three hours when I got home. Then I got up to have a shower and change the sheets (I woke up in a pool of sweat), and noticed that the ‘insect bite’ that was on my belt line was looking much worse than it should. And there were more of the ‘insect bites’ appearing in other places on my body. I mentioned to the good wife that I hadn’t had the Chicken Pox before, and perhaps now I do.

The Doc confirmed it the next day. Same doc. Looked me square in the eye and said “You have chicken pox – how old are you?”
“Thirty”, came my sheepish reply. I could tell he wouldn’t approve of my decision to turn 30.
“Thirty? Oh wow – you’re going to be really sick!”
I love my doctor.
He was right, of course – I was really sick. Not just itchy, but really crook. I slept several times a day and anywhere between ten to sixteen hours at night.
I applied Pinetarsol soap, Calamine lotion and antiseptic cream, whilst ingesting some manner of anti-biotic and numerous antihistamines. Three times a day.

Of course, I was supposed to attend the Canberra Timber and Working With Wood Show. In fact I was supposed to drive all the machines and the stand down there on the Thursday. Emergency contingency plans were made and executed, and I was able to stay in bed.

Now, if I look back on my life since I decided to turn 30, I see a decided pattern. It all started with a crook back, which is an ailment often reserved for old-timers. Then I busted a rib – something that an active teenager may complain of. The lurgy can fit into any time of life, but the chicken pox is usually for kids under the age of 10. My ailments seem to be getting younger and younger! What’s around the corner?? Nappy rash???:confused:

So to all the younger members of this Forum; if you are thinking of turning 30, please take my advice. Don’t. It’s not worth it.