*Aging or Ageing? Both seem to ‘fly’. Dictionary gives them both equal time….?
“So, Doc, I think I am fine. Kinda. I got complaints but, well, I have no idea if I am unwell, sick, lame, dying or just plain getting old. Seriously. It’s confusing. Maybe I am demented? I have never been old before so I have no idea how to factor the age variable into the equation. Am I tiring easily ’cause I got Ebola or because I got 68 long miles under me?”
“Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“So, then, what is the answer? Am I just gettin’ on or do I need to have something internal taken out or more chemicals and drugs pumped in? Wazzup?”
“Dunno. We can run some blood tests, I guess. That always says something.”
“But nothing definitive…..”
“No. Nothing definitive.”
“So, it’s probably just age?”
“Probably…..how confused are you?”
“Depends on the topic. On this, I am clueless. But I can still remember the cast of the Honeymooners. I can almost recite all of Clint Eastwood’s movies. I make great sushi. But technical books now just bore me. So does much of what passes for entertainment too. And, God help me, I am not looking at pretty girls anymore. I don’t even see them! I must be doomed.”
“Well, we can pump in some steroids and hormones if that’s the issue.”
“No. Better not do that. I am grouchy enough as it is. And Sal would kill me if she thought I was trying to cling to any remnants of macho.”
“Well, then, it was good to see you. Anything else I can do for you?”
“Yeah. Here’s your propeller.”
“My propeller….? What are you doing with my propeller?”
“I was in the propeller shop getting my own repaired. Looked around. Saw yours on the shelf. Had your name on it. I knew I would see you today, so I picked it up for you. Maybe saved you a trip to town?”
“Well, there’s nothing wrong with your mind, that’s for sure.”
“Don’t be so sure. I had it tied to my jacket for the last few hours so I didn’t forget to give it to you”.
Still interested in learning is key. Near my gym is a supported care facility and nearly every infermity is on display. One of our gym regulars checked himself into the old folks home recently because he was lonely. Good brain, interesting life but he got tired of beans on toast alone. You have new book underway to keep you occupied and the cups of tea and the three squares continue to appear. There is no map for aging, aches and pains are best ignored plus nothing momentous has paid you a call. Time to crack a bruskie and buy a lotto ticket.
Good point. Now that I am at that stage that money matters little, I could win!
Checking oneself into an old folks home is NOT a sane thing to do. If his brain was still good, he would know that. Poor guy. Demented with a capital D.
Now you know what I’ve been going through, and I don’t even have a scotch crutch. Just thank your lucky stars you’re off the grid! I understand it gets a lot worse downtown.
You’re right…can’t imagine the hell of aging in the bowels of the city. But, for the record, JA, you DO have a crutch. Humour is not quite the elixir of youth but it’s a tonic, for damn sure. I still see you ‘starting’ your vacuum cleaner for the OBVIOUS first time! I see you some day buried with crates of cauliflower like some weirded out vegan Pharaoh. I see a bevy of cleaners mourning your passing.