Whose choice is it?

“Getting old ain’t for sissies,” Bette Davis said.

“Old age is not so bad when you consider the alternative,” Maurice Chevalier told us.

“Age is not a particularly interesting subject. Anyone can get old. All you have to do is live long enough,” Groucho Marx stated

“The idea is to die young as late as possible,” we are informed by Ashley Montagu

It really doesn’t matter who says what about the ageing process, let me tell you first-hand that growing older is not particularly enjoyable. Perhaps, as Chevalier says, the alternative might be worse. Then again, who knows, it might be a great deal better. “In my Father’s house are many mansions, etc., etc., etc.” We just don’t know but I don’t know of anyone who is all that eager to find out.

What I do know is that as we age, we lose physical strength; we develop more ailments; we lose our old friends; and sometimes those we love precede us in death. That is probably the most bitter pill that we are forced to swallow. While not wishing bad luck on any of them, I have been blessed not to have lost a child or grandchild. Oh, cut it out. I don’t believe in that, “Well, that’s the kiss of death” bullshit. Should something happen, I believe it was going to happen regardless of what this particular fool might or might not have written.

I believe that, surviving three heart attacks, allows me some leeway in what and how I write. Before the first one, I enjoyed a cup of coffee as well as the next person. Since that heart attack, I can’t stand the taste of the stuff. Although cancer killed my Dad, both grandparents, and took my wife, I feel blessed that so far basal cells are the only things I’ve had removed. They’re a pain in the ass, but they are easily removed. A couple of years ago I developed adult-onset-diabetes. That’s something I could have lived without, but what the hell, they tell me it’s “age-related;” how glorious is that. Add another pill twice a day to the already existing load. I have a couple of those weekly containers for pills. You fill them up on Sunday and each day is marked off with the week’s grab-bag. I keep two of them just because it’s always nice to be one step ahead of the pharmacy. I must admit that there are some little cubbies in my daily dosages that are getting quite full and somewhat difficult to close fully. At my physical recently, the doctor suggested that I might wish to take another pill to prevent me from having to get up and pee five, six, or seven times a night. I politely declined, indicating that at least when I get up, at least I know I’m still alive! He failed to see the humor in that but he’s only in his late 50s and what do children that young know of anything?

Someone said to me not to long ago, “Remember age is just a number; it’s not how old you are; it’s how you feel.” I didn’t have the heart to say that there are days when I feel like shit and other days when I feel like a larger pile of shit. I suppose that if one can get out of bed within a minute or so after waking up, one should be thankful. I watch former NBA star, Bill Walton, complaining about his feet being so bad that he couldn’t get out of bed. Then, the dumb son-of-a-bitch tells me he was cured by an arch support. I don’t know what podiatrist he was using, but the doctor should have been shot a long time ago. I don’t dare write to Walton and tell him that even orthotics eventually lose their effectiveness and you’re left with neuropathy that will require more pills and that those suckers aren’t all that effective.

Yep, growing old is a bitch. You begin to forget people’s names and if you’re lucky, it doesn’t go a hell of a lot further than that. I have several friends, younger than I, who have dementia of one type or another. Out of true love, their spouses are attempting to care for them. It will reach the point where they can no longer do so and have to put them in a home or it will kill them as they try to care for their loved one. You tell me which the fairest alternative is.

Losing your hearing as you get older is a bitch, particularly if you’re living with someone younger whose hearing is perfect. If the television volume is up where you want it, the other person has to put on earmuffs and still says it’s too loud. The doctor gives you a hearing test and tells you that while you’ve lost “a bit,” it’s still too early for a hearing aid…tell that one to the person who lives with me doc. You’ll surely get an earful!

I was never big into exercise after I graduated from high school. The first heart attack brought that home to roost in a big way. My idea of exercise before the attack was the inhaling of cigarette smoke into my lungs on a continuous basis and doing sixteen ounce curls at night. All of that changed during cardiac rehabilitation. I learned that cigarettes were bad, although I didn’t quit for another eight years, and I learned that exercise could bring about a natural high that was far better than any scotch I’d ever tasted. As a result, I joined a gym; had a cigarette just before going in for a workout; had a cigarette just after the workout, but finally said, “Screw it,” in 1998. The way prices skyrocketed shortly thereafter probably has saved me several thousand dollars.

I’m not advocating that anyone stick a gun in his or her mouth when they reach 65, but I am saying be prepared. If the choice presents itself and you’re still in good health, don’t retire. Don’t retire unless you have planned what you will be doing over the next 25-30 years; yes, you can plan to live that long beyond retirement if you’re sensible about it. If you don’t have plans for that amount of time, you’ll probably die within a couple of years; that could be a blessing or it could be a curse. Who knows? Who cares? Until someone comes back from the other side and tells me how great things are on the other side, I’d just as soon continue to smell the roses in the backyard.

I truly believe that there comes a point in your life when you just decide to let go and see what’s beyond that next hill. If you’re lucky enough, you get to make the choice; if not, somebody else will pull the plug. I’d just as soon make the choice myself.

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