Getting old sucks sometimes.
Illness, disease, years of mistreating our bodies, poor diets and deliterious lifestyles catch up to us.
I saw it in my wife. As she grew older, her health declined due to smoking, disease, diet and more than her fair share of random serious conditions.
I see it with other retirees at my pool. They struggle to stand up from a sitting position, to get in and out of the pool and even to walk to their cars.
I hear from friends my age and younger, who talk about frozen shoulders, bad knees, lack of flexibility and weight gain.
I experience it in myself. From a lingering shoulder injury to two hernias that require surgery to fix.
My Wife Was A Fighter
My wife refused to decline gracefully. Despite her numerous health issues, she fought to be as independent as possible. After her two spinal surgeries, she refused help for bathing or going to the bathroom. She forced herself to walk. She got outside and gardened, even if she had to grit her teeth when the pain became unbearable. I would tell her to take it easy and she would say, “If I’m going to be in pain anyway, I’d rather do what I am able to than just give up and do nothing.”
Even in her final days when she was dying from lung cancer, she rarely accepted assistance unless she was totally incapacitated. She only slowed down when it was physically impossible not to.
If I have any control over it, my plan is to live a full and active life followed by a speedy decline and death.
That’s what happened to my little poodle Shorty too. We adopted him when he was around 5 years old. He was an ugly, scrawny mess. But in no time, he grew to become our magnificent stout little Sergeant. Over the next 12 years, he accompanied me on thousands of miles of walks. He chased squirrels and cats. He “protected” us from the mailman, big dogs and strangers. In his last few years, arthritis slowed him down and shortened our walks but he was always up for a game of ball, a stroll around the park or some lap time. Then in a span of a few days, he had multiple seizures. Although our vet assured us that Shorty was in no pain and couldn’t remember the seizures, we knew it was time and had him gently euthanized. We loved him and had long before decided that when his time came, we would do this for him.
I hope I have that option when my time comes.
In the Meantime, I Refuse To Decline Gracefully
I’m not going down without a fight. I fight weight gain by eating a strict, restrictive diet. Do I want ice cream and peanuts and sugar? You bet. But I cherish being thin, ripped and clear headed more.
Do I want to have my second hernia surgery in just over a year? Absolutely not. But hernias do not spontaneously heal. My only option to fix this is to have another surgery.
Sometimes I miss the days of times gone past.
- Getting drunk every night for a decade
- Eating take out with desert 5 nights a week
- Savoring fine Italian cuisine plus two bottles of Merlot on weekend date nights
- Partying until 3AM, only to wake up a 6AM for work the next morning and then reporting this cycle several nights a week
- Eating myself into a carb and sugar loaded stupor
But I don’t live that way anymore. I demand so much from my mind and body that I have to take care of it.
Plus, I love how it feels when I do.
And so, you won’t hear me complaining much about weight gain – I watch the scale daily and when I need to, I restrict my diet.
I won’t be the one struggling to walk a mile if I have any control over it. I’ve walked for miles every day for most of my life – in the sun, in the dark, in the rain, in cold, through snow, heat and high winds.
I exercise daily, including cardio, strength, flexibility and balancing movements so that I can move my body, get up off the floor, squat, roll, climb and move better than I could when I was in my thirties.
Someday, I might not have a choice.
Like my wife, disease may take me out. Or like Shorty, old age will catch up to me. Or an accident, pandemic or crime may take away my choice.
Today I have a choice. I will not decline gracefully.
I choose to go down fighting.