Because I was born before The Beatles came to America on the Mayflower, I’m becoming painfully aware of something: I’m getting OLD!! Well, my body is anyway. My mind still thinks I’m young. In fact, I’ve been told by people much younger than me that I “don’t act like an old person.” I tell my friends that I’m a child in old man’s clothing. Then I pass a mirror; and if I dare to look, the truth slaps me in the head. I think to myself (sometimes out loud), “hey Mister!! What the HECK did you do with the young guy that used to live in there??”
Oh what the heck. This is me, wrinkles, receding hairline, and all. I don’t much care about how youthful I look anymore. Why should I? Not like I’m on the prowl for a mate or anything. I’ve been blessed: my soulmate is a Beautiful Young Woman (she’s a whole 3 months younger than me). We met when we were 17 year old kids and are still best friends. Nope… what you see is what you get with the likes of me. And as my Beautiful Girlfriend has been fond of saying lately, “better to be seen than to be viewed.”
I’ve also been told that this getting old crap is not for sissies. Ain’t that the truth!! This stuff can be painful!! Remember that statement about my brain thinking I’m a youngster?? Well that can cause problems when I try to do anything that involves physical effort. Sure, I can do pretty much everything I’ve always done over the years; but sometimes it takes longer, and other times it hurts. Even getting out of bed can produce very annoying SNAP!! CRACKLE!! POP!! noises those Kellogg’s Rice Crispies commercials touted back in the day.
Thankfully, my eyes seem to be “hangin’ in,” as Aunt Joyce used to say. Just before retirement I went to the eye doctor for a checkup, and I was told I passed the driver’s test without glasses. He also mentioned an onset of cataracts, “but no need to do anything about it.” Same diagnosis as my last exam which I think was about 4 years ago. I use readers to compensate for aging lenses inside my 66 year old eyeballs; but otherwise I see pretty well. Or at least I thought I did, until two days ago.
I woke up the other day and put my glasses on to read while in the… um… library (bathroom). Weird… my right eye was seeing strangely fuzzy text. I took off my wire frame glasses, rubbed my eyes a bit, put them back on and resumed reading. Still a little fuzzy. After breakfast I opened my laptop and started reading some e-mails. “What’s up with this right eye??” I wondered to myself. Went in the bathroom and doused both eyes with eye drops. Put the glasses back on. Seemed a little better… oh wait… nope!! Still fuzzy.
Now I’m getting a bit frightened.
Took the glasses off again, this time soaked a washcloth in very hot water and applied the hot compress to my eye; hoping this method could dissolve whatever this film might be. Put the glasses back on… Nope!! Now I’m getting scared. I sought out my Honey Pie (glasses still on). “She’s a nurse,” I told myself, “she’ll notice if something is wrong.” “Honey!!” I pleaded. “Can you look at my right eye and tell me if it looks OK?” She gazed carefully… “No, I don’t see any film or anything.” She did mention maybe I had an indentation on one side of my eyeball, but seems like I clunked myself there many moons ago. But I was primarily getting upset about my vision.
My magnifying mind started wondering if I had some sort of obscure stroke; or how I should type out a search string on the interwebs to figure out what the heck the deal was. Off I went to the bedroom for something (who knows why). There on my nightstand was a lens from a pair of glasses. MY pair of glasses. The ones I was wearing!! The instant I saw this lens, all I could do was laughed very hard.
So my friends, as you can see, this getting old stuff ain’t for sissies. And it seems that no matter how old I get, some of the terrible things that plague my existence are completely imagined by my magnifying mind. The miracle for today is: I CAN SEE!! It’s AMAZING!! And I can laugh about it.
Life is good.
When I grow up, I wanna be like Grampy….