Growing old is not for wimps. – Just About Everyone Who Has Reached the Age of 60
I’ve said this many times before on this very blogsite, but it’s worth repeating. As we Baby Boomers age, despite the fact that our bodies ache more than they did when we were 21, it just doesn’t seem like we are older. Not really. Our brains still think we are young; it’s our bodies that keep us honest.
I admitted to Bec just yesterday morning that I am constantly complaining about the old folks in front of me in line at Costco, or the old folks in Buicks who drive too slow, or too fast, or change lanes without looking. But as I told her, I have to remind myself that those old folks are ME! They are probably complaining about something I’m doing that’s getting on their very last nerve. Why do I think of myself as somehow being different when they are likely my very age?
I remember many years ago when Bill’s mother Wilma was visiting us at our Denver house. It has two stories, and back then I found the need to go up and down the stairs many times a day. One day she was sitting in our living room and I came down the stairs the way I always did in those days – full speed. Thump thump thump thump thump. She said to me, “I can’t tell you how much I envy the fact that you can run up and down the stairs as you do. I wish I could still do that.”
I didn’t think about it much at the time, but that conversation comes back to me nowadays when I don’t run up and down the steps nearly as fast, and in fact, try to limit the number of times that I walk up the stairs. Combine trips, donchaknow. And it’s more like thump….thump…..thump…..thump…..thump.
The reason I was with Bec yesterday is that I attended a meeting with her in preparation for surgery that she is having on Monday. She, along with some-852 other adults around the world, will be having a hip replaced. Thanks to arthritis, her old one simply wore out. Imagine that.
The good news, of course, is that we live at a time when hip surgery is considered no big deal. An hour-and-a-half or so in the company of the surgeon, a night in the hospital, and you’re sent home with care instructions and pain medications and painful physical therapy to look forward to. The doctors and nurses will have her up and walking by Monday afternoon. (Well, the nurses will. The doctors will probably be on the golf course by then.) She will be touring France by the fall…..
I’m making it sound a lot easier than it will be, of course. But her friends and family know that she has been fighting with that hip for months and months. I’m pretty sure she is more than willing to go through the next few weeks in exchange for being able to get out of a car easily or walk around the park without pain.
As for me, I, along with her kids and other siblings and nieces and nephews, will take care of her any way we can. Meals are being prepared and will be in her freezer by Sunday night. We are all praying so incessantly that God is saying, “Alright already. I hear you!” She will be so sick of having helpers that by the end of the week, she will be telling everyone to JUST GO HOME. And thank goodness for Kindles and cable and Netflix.
Getting old might not be a walk in the park, but at least nowadays things can be done so that we can take a walk in the park even as our joints wear out!
Remember her in your prayers, friends.