The Betrayal of Old Age
Thirty some years ago, anytime I would wake up with the bed-spins meant that I had spent the night before “socializing with friends”, reaching new extremes of bad behavior that are much more unacceptable now than they were back then. Today, in my sixties, when I lie in bed and the first thing I notice in the morning is that it hurts to move my head it means an ear infection. Because of this infection during the last couple of days, standing upright and walking a straight line has been an approximation at best. It’s really brought back some fond memories of the good old days. Think of it as a hangover without the upset stomach.
Maybe the worst part of growing old is having to take pleasure in the little things. I could probably go off on a tangent about size not mattering. But in most cases it does and that’s fodder for another post. What I mean here is small things like appreciating an ache or pain that has gone away.
You may have noticed that I haven’t written much lately. Well a person doesn’t reel much like writing when they hurt. A couple of weeks ago I fell on a patch of ice. It seems that I’m making this into an annual event. Last year it resulted in a mild concussion, this year a cracked rib. But the point is its been hurting to take a deep breath or twist or reach for something for weeks. I noticed the last couple of days it hasn’t been hurting as much to do those things. When you appreciate a pain that has gone away, or even notice that it’s gone away, you know you are getting old. But now maybe I’ll be writing more.
I’ll bet most of you can agree that having a thirty year old mindset inside a sixty year old body feels like a betrayal. We still want to do the things we did “back then” but find an afternoon nap much more appealing. Maybe a nice walk around the block to enjoy this mid-February thaw will get the blood moving again… and stretch those sore ribs.
