Years ago I was doing some handy work for an older gentleman who shared with me his definition of getting old.
It’s when you’re downstairs and start heading upstairs to get something. Halfway up the stairs you realize you’ve forgotten what you’re going after so you sit down on the stairs to try to remember. After a minute you realize you’ve forgotten whether you were downstairs going up or upstairs going down.
The scary part was that that sounded like me at the time and I was in my twenties. I guess I’ve always been old.
Having recently lost someone that was an integral part of a portion of my childhood, I find myself dwelling on mortality. Myrna's death was a gut punch. It was like losing my mother all over again. I can't help but realize that I, and more people that I care to count, are on a road that's going to end sooner than later.
I loved this and you appear to be in tip top shape!
Thoughts about stupid things creep in for me like: Will my next car be the last car I ever buy? How many big trips are possible (choose destinations carefully)? I'm not a fan of giving up activities I enjoy because of the body, either. But it's questions like: Will I be able to pick up and carry my future grandchildren, or play on the floor with them? Will I see them graduate?...that bother me most. I just don't take these things for granted anymore. My body has convinced my mind I shouldn't.
I have thought a lot about mortality in connection with buying my house. A 30-year mortgage for a 60-year old is funny. I couldn't quit laughing. Sure. Give me the money. Oh, you BET I'll pay it off.
I am retired 3 years now, and I love it. I started walking every day, weather permitting. I had no aches or pains until just a few months ago when I started waking up with a sore back. I was able to localize the pain to my hip joint, and I don't like that one bit. I've been so good the last two years, done all the right things, and yet age is creeping up on me anyway. The wages for all those years when I *didn't* take care of myself, I suppose. But as I once read somewhere, it is better to wear out than to rust out.
My grandmother died in her sleep at 95. My mother is still alive and relatively well at 94. I hope to emulate them. But I'm very aware that someday I will end, too. One reality I have faced is that I am not going to be able to read all the books that I still haven't read, so I keep culling them with the goal of leaving behind as few as possible for someone else to have to dispose of.
I have freakish strength that I have always considered as much as part of my life as my thick hair. Now my hair is thinning and I believe they are tightening the jelly jars more than they used to. That's the only explanation I can give.
Hahaha! Excellent option. Instead, I purchased some kind of jar helper the next time I was grocery shopping. Worked like a charm. Now I'm waiting for the next sad thing to make me feel old...
The weird thing is, I don't mind my age. I don't wish I was in my 30s (GOD, no) and I don't miss my 40s and the 50s were a bit of a blur. I like being this age, but it is a continual revelation to me how things sag and bag at this point.
The nearly 100 year old mother of a friend of mine is an inspiration. She’s intolerant of discussions about physical ailments. If someone goes on too long she’ll snap, “no organ recitals!”
I turned 60 last week, so I can relate to the "how the hell did this happen" feeling. That reaction from your doctor is hilarious. Years ago, Rolling Stone magazine had a promotion where they offered a lifetime subscription for one hundred dollars. So now, the expiration date on my subscription is listed as 2054. Considering I was born in 1962, I'll take it.
Great that your visits went so well. I have a few years on you and every year around this time, something new pops up to take care of. This has been happening since 2017 and it gets me a bit anxious. Too many anniversaries of taking the body in the shop to get repaired. It really does make you aware of your own mortality.
Years ago I was doing some handy work for an older gentleman who shared with me his definition of getting old.
It’s when you’re downstairs and start heading upstairs to get something. Halfway up the stairs you realize you’ve forgotten what you’re going after so you sit down on the stairs to try to remember. After a minute you realize you’ve forgotten whether you were downstairs going up or upstairs going down.
The scary part was that that sounded like me at the time and I was in my twenties. I guess I’ve always been old.
And I have always lost interest in my own sentences about halfway through.
Having recently lost someone that was an integral part of a portion of my childhood, I find myself dwelling on mortality. Myrna's death was a gut punch. It was like losing my mother all over again. I can't help but realize that I, and more people that I care to count, are on a road that's going to end sooner than later.
It's striking, isn't it? The laws of physics apply to us all. I'm very sorry for your loss.
I loved this and you appear to be in tip top shape!
Thoughts about stupid things creep in for me like: Will my next car be the last car I ever buy? How many big trips are possible (choose destinations carefully)? I'm not a fan of giving up activities I enjoy because of the body, either. But it's questions like: Will I be able to pick up and carry my future grandchildren, or play on the floor with them? Will I see them graduate?...that bother me most. I just don't take these things for granted anymore. My body has convinced my mind I shouldn't.
I have thought a lot about mortality in connection with buying my house. A 30-year mortgage for a 60-year old is funny. I couldn't quit laughing. Sure. Give me the money. Oh, you BET I'll pay it off.
From dust we came unto dust we shall return… oops grandma, was that you I just vacuumed up?
Ha. And that's about what the body is worth...
I am retired 3 years now, and I love it. I started walking every day, weather permitting. I had no aches or pains until just a few months ago when I started waking up with a sore back. I was able to localize the pain to my hip joint, and I don't like that one bit. I've been so good the last two years, done all the right things, and yet age is creeping up on me anyway. The wages for all those years when I *didn't* take care of myself, I suppose. But as I once read somewhere, it is better to wear out than to rust out.
My grandmother died in her sleep at 95. My mother is still alive and relatively well at 94. I hope to emulate them. But I'm very aware that someday I will end, too. One reality I have faced is that I am not going to be able to read all the books that I still haven't read, so I keep culling them with the goal of leaving behind as few as possible for someone else to have to dispose of.
I have always felt that way -- I have too many books to stop reading now. I must go on.
Loved this. I can’t open a jelly jar.
I have freakish strength that I have always considered as much as part of my life as my thick hair. Now my hair is thinning and I believe they are tightening the jelly jars more than they used to. That's the only explanation I can give.
I recently had a jar I just could NOT open. First time ever. It made me sad.
Right? I just throw those jars out. To hell with them.
Hahaha! Excellent option. Instead, I purchased some kind of jar helper the next time I was grocery shopping. Worked like a charm. Now I'm waiting for the next sad thing to make me feel old...
The weird thing is, I don't mind my age. I don't wish I was in my 30s (GOD, no) and I don't miss my 40s and the 50s were a bit of a blur. I like being this age, but it is a continual revelation to me how things sag and bag at this point.
The nearly 100 year old mother of a friend of mine is an inspiration. She’s intolerant of discussions about physical ailments. If someone goes on too long she’ll snap, “no organ recitals!”
I turned 60 last week, so I can relate to the "how the hell did this happen" feeling. That reaction from your doctor is hilarious. Years ago, Rolling Stone magazine had a promotion where they offered a lifetime subscription for one hundred dollars. So now, the expiration date on my subscription is listed as 2054. Considering I was born in 1962, I'll take it.
Great that your visits went so well. I have a few years on you and every year around this time, something new pops up to take care of. This has been happening since 2017 and it gets me a bit anxious. Too many anniversaries of taking the body in the shop to get repaired. It really does make you aware of your own mortality.