Turning 65 has suddenly been a wake-up call where all I have
to talk about is my aches and pains, my meds, the grocery deals, and yes, my
bowel movements. My first indication that I had hit this mile marker was people
quit asking me "How're ya doin' there big fella?" Now they wave and mention the weather, which
I've also become quite a sage on the subject.
"Back in the 70's..." I begin and they immediately get a text
or a phone call and holding their communication device up to signal it's
priority over actual face to face interaction, step off for a moment that
eventually leads them away.
I talk to people in elevators and the grocery story, often
grabbing at their arm when they fake how precious their time is. Never mind
that we are strangers. What's more important than people? Any interaction with
my fellow humans in now important and I have a witty anecdote to share and by
golly, they should slow down to savor it.
"You ain't seen nothin' yet," half joked the old
Korean War veteran who I met at the VA. Recently, I had CT scan to rule out
other more significant problems so I could continue pain management via
acupuncture for my neck issues. The good news is I do not have a tumor, but I
have cranial calcification, which I immediately knew better as "bone
head" caused by aging. So it appears, my narrow range of topics is a
direct result of said calcium deposits.
I was afraid it would reveal the dreaded "dirty
mind" deposits that go with being an elder male of the human species, but
I guess they didn't run that test. Other men my age have explained to me that
being a dirty old man is as common as litter and is fully excusable due to the
fact that most of us are or will become inert and harmless and that is quickly
recognized by intended targets of our risk-free witty banter.
I see this performance at the gym in the mornings when other
"old goats" are drawn to the female gender to spread friendly double-entendre. Before I turned 65, I would explain to my
bride that "they really like women" and that's why they always come
over grinning. The other day I was tempted to engage in this social behavior.
Drat! At least I wasn't drooling. Not yet any way. The dang truth is, I am 65
and not 35 and I can't do a lot of the things that I did when I was younger.
2017 has been mean to me physically.
I was talking to Barbora Cole the other day and when I got
on this subject (which is my new staple conversation), she laughed and
explained how it was only going to get worse. Her husband Leo nodded in
agreement. Yikes! I'm trapped. I was at their house repairing their computer
and I swear, my first thought after I left was what was on sale at Aldi's and
that I had to pick up a prescription at CVS.
I've done pretty well on getting away from the pain in my
"nasty neck" and sure as the world, I semi-twist my back. You know what I'm talking about. It's that pain you get when you turn wrong,
or step in a hole. I did it innocently enough by changing a flat tire on my
Jeep. Never mind that the huge tire and wheel weigh 80 pounds. I was trying to
stab the wheel on the carrier on the back while feeding the 3rd brake light
cable through the middle of the wheel.
Of course it slipped a bit and I jerked to catch it and
ouch! When all this stuff started with my neck on March 21st, I was on a single
blood pressure med. Now I have 8 meds and 2 topical analgesics. "You ain't
seen nothin' yet" comes to mind.
Our VA is a wonderful place in my experience, but the other
day my doctor looked at my chart and declared, "Well, you get 2 shots
today!" I chuckled and asked what
it was for and why. "You are now
65, so you get a tetanus and pneumonia shot." Zap, I got em and 5 days
later my arms are still sore. I guess I need to go get a walker from the
prosthetics department, as at this accelerated pace, I'll most likely need it
soon.
Here is the real skinny on all this aging business. It is
inevitable and not entirely avoidable. I have to be smarter and admit to myself
that I must back off some activities. Larry Houston told me he never gets hurt
changing a tire because he calls AAA and I think he's right. I know he's right.
I just don't know how to stop being 35.
