The Sliding Scale
When we’re young our thought processes don’t include much personal maintenance. Youth doesn’t have to think about eventual degradation because, for the most part, every thing’s in working order and body parts can still take a fair amount of abuse without something falling off and rolling across the floor. This is the magic of youth and it’s the same way we feel about a new car…what could go wrong? It’s new, it’s hot, it’s clean and ready for a long and distinguished run. Why even think about it?
At 58, I’ve got an entirely different perspective on things and it’s a primary reason why parents and offspring see life so differently. But I believe that if children could somehow feel, in any temporary way, what life will eventually dish out, physically and psychologically, they would find an easier generational commonality and gain some valuable perspective on the fine art of living.
I’m beginning to really experience the wheels coming off and the train jumping the tracks and, frankly, it’s taking with it some of my last remaining cool mojo and that’s nothing if not a sobering alert that stuff is wearing out. On the other hand I’m, at this precise moment in time, almost perfectly straddling youth and old age. I’m still playing basketball with guys 30 years younger than me and I’m being told by an orthopedic specialist that my knees are a wreck and will, eventually, have to be condemned out of concern for arthritis and years of pounding and abuse.
This is a weird place to be. I can’t say that I’m fully embracing advancing age because I’m not, but I’m not fooled by the illusion of youth anymore either. Is this what Joni Mitchell meant by “I’ve looked at life from both sides now”? I’m not sure, but that’s what’s happening to me. I’m having to become an advocate for both my youthful side and my aged side, both at the same time. I can’t emphasize how much of a weird place this is to be.
I’ve got the psychology of a 16 year old and the knees of a 90 year old. Stuff happens to me now that I’ve never even seen or heard of and my cries of “what the hell now?” are mostly exasperated pleas for mercy. I’ve got crap happening that I can’t even put down in print! I’ve heard it remarked that aging is not for sissies and it is so true because if you don’t decide to ignore the things that bog you down and carry on in defiance, then you’ll be in a wheelchair in about 5 minutes. This is where youthful obliviousness comes in handy because it is that bravado that keeps us cooking.
So, I have an approach that I’m using that I hope will serve me until I am no longer, and it involves a little measured prudence with a little kamikaze. Sound dangerous? Not really, because the greater danger would be sitting on my sorry ass tabulating my infirmities. Now that sounds dangerous, so I have no intention of doing that.
Anyhow, my formula for future success is 1) let only the severity of pain dictate what I will and will not physically do, 2) ignore the pain, 3) make good friends with ibuprofen and, finally, 4) leave all pride parked at the door since it won’t be needed.
Have a nice day…