I’m at the forefront of the baby boomers. Bet you couldn’t tell by my previous posts…
But for those of us who chanted “Don’t trust anyone over thirty!” we are now more than twice that and many of us no longer have the luxury(?) of a roadmap of how this aging thing goes. Granted, my situation is a little different, in that my parents were older when they had me, so I grew up with “seniors” in the house. Many of my friends are only now dealing with aging and dying parents, whereas I dealt with that in my early 30’s.
But mine is a generation for whom “old” is a dirty word. “Aging gracefully” means looking young for the most part. Being “Fit & Healthy!” is understood (too often) to mean being able to do stuff you did in your thirties, just like you did it in your thirties — like tennis, jogging, boating and you know.
So this sets up a paradox between my body and me. For instance, today I was watching the neighbor’s kid trying to take a large branch off a tall tree. The branch was at about second story height and hewas having a tough time trying to saw it off; sorta wobbling on the tall ladder as he power-sawed. I started paying attention when I heard the squealing of wheels and looked up from my desk to see the kid’s pick-up truck with a rope tied to its hitch, the other end of which was tied to the big branch. I kid you not. I went to my front door for a better look-see. As the kid hit the gas the branch moved not one whit, but the whole tree shook. I thought it was going to come straight out of the ground. Or his bumper was going to land on the street.
I thought maybe this was being filmed. I remotely remembered a Laurel & Hardy skit, or was it the Three Stooges, doing something similar. When the rope snapped with a loud POP I jumped back, pivoting away from my glass door. Half laughing, half horrified. Until the pain shot through my knee.
Damn! Old knees! Can’t pivot on them at all — ever. So now, here I am on the couch with a wrecked knee. The branch taken down successfully — as am I. Nosy old lady got her just desserts!
Not graceful; doesn’t feel graceful. Not at all
In my defense, I spent this morning body-surfing. I wasn’t graceful there, either, though. But it was way fun! Caught some good ones. My mother, at my age, wouldn’t be caught dead in the ocean beyond her knees.
So, no road maps about how to do this aging thing, how to do it gracefully, how to keep all the pieces and parts working so I can at least do, whether the doing is graceful or not!
Off to try and find the knee doctor’s number. Can’t remember his name…