Hard truth about getting old


I have now come to the age that is the same one I used to tease my dad about. You know the saying, “If I had known I was going to live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.”

When I teased my father about getting old, he would always say that I was going to get old some day, too. The other day when I got a call from my doctor’s office, the nurse advised me that it was time for my Medicare wellness checkup. (I refer to it as being a “well-baby” checkup.)

After setting the date for me to come in, the nurse asked me what seemed like 100 questions. They included how I feel now, how my mental health is, as well as my overall health. After she was done, she asked me if I had any questions. Questions about having trouble getting around, or was anything bothering me?

Well, that just opened the door!!!

“How do I feel?” I am a 65-year-old fat, bald guy. My world is going to heck in a hand basket. The music today has no soul. The younger generation is blaming me for all the troubles in the world.

“How are you getting around?” When I get up in the morning, I stagger around the house like a toddler, or maybe a drunken sailor. I have to use every bit of furniture to hang onto. Sometimes when I have been driving for a very long time and first get out of the truck to walk in the house, I know my neighbors may think I have been out drinking at the bars.

“Do you fall a lot?” What do you mean by “a lot”? I went on to say that I hug the ground from time to time. I wish I was getting old gracefully. Each day can be a challenge. I have not made it easy on myself.

Having given these, and other answers to the nurse, she may wish she had not made this call. I may have given out too much information.

My doctor is ready for me now.

I hope everyone reading this article is in good health.


By Loren Pool

Contributing columnist

Loren Pool is a retired Delaware County deputy sheriff.

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