I’m not sure if it’s occurred over time or suddenly but something odd has happened. Whenever possible, I find myself avoiding looking directly into the bathroom mirror. Why? I don’t know. Part of it is I don’t feel I recognize the person that’s standing there anymore; the straggly hair, the wrinkled skin, the vacant expression. I mean, who is this old fart? Where’d he come from? Wasn’t it just the day before yesterday when he was young and semi-vibrant looking?
Okay, I’m being silly. Truthfully, it’s not the way I look that bothers me. No, not at all, it comes with the territory. Often, I think it’s the way I feel. That guy in the mirror? His legs hurt. His lower back hurts. His arthritic hands hurt. Most of all his feeble brain hurts. No one told me when I was young that my brain was going to grow old just like the rest of my body. I was under the impression that old age meant ever burgeoning wisdom. So much for that. I’m increasingly inarticulate, totally lacking in curiosity and these days about as social as a doormat.
And yet, truth be known, I’ve been pretty darn fortunate when it comes to this silly aging process. I recently had my annual physical and much to my surprise, was told my blood work and organ functions were on par with a thirty-year-old. My teeth? I still have them all, including the wisdom teeth – maybe that’s why I’m still so incredibly smart. And those aching knees and the tight lower back? They still take me onto the tennis court and out on long beach walks. They yell at me in bed at night, yes, but I can handle it. And if I’m not up for exercise, let’s face, sometimes sitting on the couch reading or playing a card game or scribbling in a notebook can be pretty darn relaxing. Nothing to do? No, nothing I absolutely have to do.
But reflect.
And contemplate.
And hope for the best.
Still. State of mind. It can be a challenge.
A recent survey from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention found that 71.5 percent of older adults reported that at least some of the time they felt fatigued; fatigue defined as physical or mental exhaustion that does not improve with additional sleep or rest.
So. I guess I’m not alone.
Oh, but wait, what time is it? Yes, in another hour I’ll have to open a beer and after that I’ll be expected to make dinner for people. I guess it will have to be steak again, poor them, poor me. Ice cream for desert.
Still, after dinner when I go to shower, I’ll avoid looking directly into the mirror. Why? Because even when I’m being optimistic I can still take myself by surprise.
Leave a comment