I suppose I have reached that age where my grandparents are long gone and my parents, (if they are still around) have reached that "iffy" age. What I mean by that is IF they can still walk, they will need a cane or a walker. IF they can still digest food it will need to be something sublime like strained peas. And IF their minds still work it is intermittently like a windshield wiper. It's not easy for any of us to watch our parents' age. It's a stark reminder that life is fragile, it's a precious commodity, and we no doubt are going to get our turn at the wheel. I'm afraid it's not a case of IF we will get old, but WHEN. Life can be a crap shoot as far as what we should expect, but eventually it's always terminal. Many people ask me, "how can you have such an upbeat attitude with the knowledge that none of us are getting out of here alive?" The truth is there is, if we don't enjoy life along the way why were we ever here to begin with? Sorry to answer your question with a question but that how we must roll sometimes. Death is as much a part of life as being born, it's simply the end of the trip.
You can run but you can't hide, the aging bug will infect all of us at some point. That's the bad news, the good news is you are allowed to laugh about it. Laughing about something posed to us by an aging loved one that is untenable is not shameful. Just bear in mind there is a difference between laughing with them and laughing at them. Laughing releases endorphins, balances our emotions (theirs and ours), helps manage grief, eases depression, and increases our bonds. If you need more or better reasons than that I can't help you. What is even more surprising is how quickly our minds revert back to our childhood. If a man can manage to make it to his hundredth birthday it will likely be much like his first. He will need help blowing out the candles, you will have to explain to him that the people in attendance are indeed his friends (whether he remembers them or not), and chances are he will end up with frosting on his face. The human condition is continuous at best and insidious at worst, but we must NEVER lose our sense of humor about it. Humor is the only way to deal with life events that are out of our control. The old saying is true, laughter IS the best medicine, that and Campho Phenique.
Not so long ago one of my uncles allowed an ingrown toenail to fester just a bit too long. Usually such a problem doesn't spell doom for anyone, but in his case, he dodged a huge bullet. Because he let the infection in his foot meander just a bit too long it ended up developing sepsis. Yes, what you are thinking is correct, that's a hell of a long time to let a problem ride. But you must remember that we are talking about a man who refused to knock off when the sun set, and weekends were just another day to him. In short, he lived to work. Trust me when I tell you that you will never see a head stone that says, "I wish I'd worked more." Six surgeries later he found himself without a leg from the knee down on his right side. Cause and effect can be a funny yet sometimes strange event. The cause of a toenail gone rouge should never be the effect of losing a limb, right? That was what I thought too until he picked a paycheck over his health. That's a MISTAKE! He was that uncle who every time I'd fall down and skin something he would tell me (in Harper County Kansas fashion) "rub some dirt on it." At the time it seemed to work okay, but even I know there are limits to the medicinal qualities of red clay. He was a man in the family in his younger years that avoided doctors like the plague. He usually had his vet treat him any time he had an ailment. Just how easy is it to convert the amount of penicillin given to a Clydesdale into a dose for a human? I'm afraid that may be above my pay grade, but it's a reminder that I love colorful people.
After his amputation, he specifically told me to ignore his previous commands to treat my ailments with soil and a bandage. This brings me to last week where he was seen at the local bank in the drive thru (steering his wheelchair with zest) attempting to break a hundred-dollar bill. This made me (as the kids say these days) laugh out loud or LOL, because it is so classically who he is. What's next, is he going to glue racing stripes to his chair and try to qualify? This is just another reminder that we cannot change who we are at our cores. It just goes to show, there are no limits for a retired man with an iron will and a set of wheels... even if they only roll at a top speed of three MPH.
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