I scanned the letter from my doctor about my recent bone density test. I knew going in what the result would be. My mother fell several times as she got older and unsteady on her feet. Never broke a bone. In fact, with the exception of my brother who cracked his thumb skidding around a vacant parking lot on a go-cart back in the ’60s, and my daughter who snapped her arm at five years old in a fall off a porch ledge, our family was fracture free.
Towards the bottom of the letter were instructions to call to make a plan going forward. A plan? For what? I reread the first paragraph. There it was: “…you have osteoporosis.” Continue reading