My Back – My Neck – My Life

As I swim ashore toward sixty five, everything has the potential to ache. I wake up, lay still a bit then slowly do a test run to determine which moving part ain’t gonna move that day. I used to surprise myself and spring to my feet, but it’s no fun collapsing en route to the ceramic throne. Recently, I’ve added a new stiffened joint to my repertoire … the left and/or right shoulder.  It adds even more fun to the morning rituals cuz it’s always different and then you also have to dress accordingly.  No wonder my mother had all those kaftans!  And I mistakingly thought she was perennially auditioning for Nora Desmond in Sunset Boulevard.  

Like on bad back day its slip on footwear pour moi!  There’s no way I’ve got it in me to bend over and tie a shoelace.  On shoulder day, it can’t be a top that you pull over.  Hoodies are deadly.  You gotta go with a button down.  Neck day’s the worst.  Not the outfit part but the limits on my activity; can’t read a book or stare at a television or turn around to back out of your driveway. Just hit reverse and hope those guidelines are correct.  And now I’m starting to get invitations to knee day, and lest I haven’t mentioned a hundred times our house has four floors and I have a challenged memory.  There’s only so many “oh damn I forgot my glasses” you can pull off until you have a pair of them on every floor.  Worse is “oh damn I forgot what I forgot” day and you’re up and down doing laps.  

Now I’m not yet in what they call the golden years, but I wonder if sixty to seventy might be our aluminum years as invariably some joint’s gonna need to be replaced.  I try to determine which one’s gonna blow first.  So far, I’m okay.  An hour or two after I’m up, most of the stiff joint stuff goes away and I can get to the gym and stretch like a bat hanging upside down.  But someday one of those knees hooked on the bar is gonna explode and then what … brain trauma?  

There’s no winning in this game of graceful aging.  Or is there?

Let’s fuse some glamour into our limitations.  A bad knee day could easily be a shake your ass day.  A bad neck day could be a “wow his stature is so pompous” day.  A bad back day could be a great time to troll the CVS parking lot on the lookout for loose change.  Also comes in handy during “pull those damn weeds day” which is every day.  Hate those things. Bad shoulder day could turn into a festive “Riverdance” piece, provided it’s not also bad back day and you can’t bend over to tie your tap shoes.  

If so, forget it.  That’s just called a day off.