I never thought about getting old. Never. No one ever told me that one day I would realize I’m old. No one.
I’m not aware of any training for getting old. To my knowledge there aren’t any how-to books like, “Everything You Ever Wanted to Know About Getting Old and Crotchety.” I think I’m going to write it. I’ll make tens of dollars, for sure.
Another book I’m going to write is, “How to Be Your Best Old Self with Constipation.”
Somehow, I missed the training on visiting the doctor every six months just so I can keep getting the medicine I was taking before I started seeing the doctor every six months. Last week it was my turn again. When the doc walked in, I said, “It’s break time. Your most boring patient is here.” He laughed and said, “I love it.”
I guess I should be thankful nothing is wrong with me, at least not yet. The only real advice I’ve received about getting old came from the doc when he said, “When you get old everything still works, it just doesn’t work as well.” Right.
I’m not one of those old guys who just sits and watches TV all day. I have to be doing something all the time. But I’ve always been that way, so I don’t think it has anything to do with being old. If I don’t have something to do I get nervous because I feel like I’m going to get caught doing nothing.
Maybe that’s why I started writing a blog. It’s like something I’ve required myself to do, and I feel like I have to do it, which I don’t, but I do it anyway. I don’t get anything for it, except “Likes,” which is ridiculous. Spending as much time writing as I do for a “Like” click on a distant computer somewhere is ludicrous. That’s why I’m working on this post right now.
Anxiety is a bugger. I can’t tell you what I’m anxious about, and I’ve been asked many times. That’s why it’s called Generalized Anxiety Disorder. That’s kind of a helpful thing, though, because I can just pick whatever I want to be anxious about, generally.
It’s sort of a mix of general and social, which is common, with a dash of avoidant personality. I imagine something is going to make me feel anxious which makes me not want to do it, so I avoid it. Getting old just means I’ve had more time to think about being anxious, feeling like the other shoe is just about to drop. Which it never has, but it’s always about to.
No one ever told me I would start forgetting stuff I’ve always remembered. When I was a school counselor, I memorized the names of every student in our building. No, I’m not kidding. It shocked kids and made parents nervous. I don’t know if I could do that now. I go in the kitchen to refill my coffee cup and forget why I went in the kitchen.
No one ever told me I would start getting tons of mail about hearing aids when I got old. I have been offered so many great deals on hearing aid miracles I almost think I should get one because it’s crazy to pass up on such a wonderful opportunity.
I’m going to start working on a syllabus for “Getting Old University.” Check your mailbox for enrollment offers.
2 thoughts on “The Getting Old Chronicles”
My grandpa Banks, lived to age 96, always said, “It’s no disgrace to grow old, it’s just inconvenient”. I’m not sure what age I can start saying the same thing? 65?
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That’s a great line. Yes, 65 qualifies. Mark Vannest and I made fun of the aunts because they all had to rock before they could stand up. It’s now payback time.