I like to think of Life as a journey to the WWI frontline trenches, said trenches being old age, where death is almost certain if you stay there long enough. (Feel free to spin this out in your imagination.)
I was drawn to the analogy when reading about Bruce Willis being given birthday best wishes by his ex-wife Demi Moore. Willis is suffering from aphasia , and has just turned 69.
I’m 69.
And here’s why I’m thinking of old age as being like being in the trenches.
There are so many ways to die, at any age, but if one dies at a young age it’s more a result of either a random tragedy (brain cancer at 39, or a heart attack at 18, and so on) or else the equivalent of playing Russian roulette, say by smoking a pack of unfiltered Camels every day, riding a motorcycle without a helmet or living in the South Side projects of Chicago. (The WWI equivalent would be dying in a car accident while driving to the station or losing your head by sticking it out of the moving train’s window, i.e. going before your time.)
But once you’re in the frontline trenches — that being old age — there are any number of ways that can snuff out Life’s Little Candle, because the Boche are throwing all sorts of shit at you: shelling, poison gas and snipers being the equivalent of kidney disease, aortic aneurism, stroke, heart attack, diverticulitis and so on. You get the picture.
I have been extraordinarily lucky so far, in that pretty much all my ailments have been recoverable either by my own body’s healing function or else by medication. (That said medication becomes more necessary is borne out by the fact that pills once taken for a day or two are now a permanent fixture and the morning routine involves something like a saunter along the Rx shelves at CVS.) And my physical condition has actually improved recently in that I’ve shed a lot of weight — granted, through said medication, but whatever — and I’m reasonably spry as a result.
But there’s no fucking cure for aphasia, Alzheimer’s, Lou Gehrig’s disease or any of the brain ailments which end one’s life horribly. And sure, you can get those at any time during your life — but once you reach the Golden Years, those illnesses become more and more likely, and the Golden Years become more like the Golden Shower Years, where Life pisses on you from all directions. (And I’m not even talking about extraneous squirts of urine like the IRS or Bidenflation, don’t get me started.)
What the hell. So far, so good. I’m in decent health for my age, the doctor tells me, and would be in better shape if I just quit eating all that shit that’s bad for me but which gives me such pleasure that I refuse to quit.
Screw that. If there’s some Boche sniper out there loading up a bullet with my name on it, I might as well eat that piece of lovely, fatty boerewors, right?
And now, if you’ll excuse me, it’s time for my Breakfast Gin. Cheers.
Growing old is not for the faint of heart.
Or faint of fart.
I need to get realigned in the “portion control” dept.
Stop treating food intake as a religion and think of it more as an industrial maintenance procedure.
I’m a 74 year old geezer. I’ve been very disappointed in the medical profession for a long time and pretty much quit going to the Doctor except when in dire straits. There are good practitioners if you can find them but I consider them the exception, not the rule. Most are lap dogs to big pharma. The Covid hoax sealed the deal for me. When I get hit with something catastrophic, I will not be pilled and procedured to death. Just give me some pain mediation for the end days and I’ll be on my way. This decision is easier for me as I am the end of my line and I have no dependents.
I was the principal caregiver for my dad until he died about 3 years ago at the age of 84. During his last 18 months or so, many of the things he used to enjoy eating no longer appealed to him. I’m quite an enthusiastic cook & was more than happy to come up with alternatives. One of his favorites was corn pudding – a Southern recipe, IIRC – tremendously rich, sweet & savory, lotta fat, lotta dairy.
He had just tucked into some of it one night when a neighbor – whom we’ll call Rancid Cunt, and who thought she was much more significant to us than she was – dropped by for a visit. I started to send her on her way, but dad invited her in to sample his new favorite meal. When I told her what was in it, she was horrified. Lectured us on healthy diet, you really need to be more careful about what you eat blah blah blah.
When she finally came up for air, dad said “RC, you desperately need to get laid. I can’t get it up anymore. Why don’t you hit whatever truck stops have the most sausage and leave me the fuck alone.”
I had a shit-eating grin on my face for the next couple days.
Your old man – a man indeed!
When I lost my wife two years ago after 46 years, a neighbor showed up with her “famous” asparagus and goat cheese casserole. When you’re a widower all of the ladies think that you’re going to starve without their kind attention.
I wanted to be polite so I accepted the casserole and discovered that even the dog wouldn’t eat it. Then I sent my son who lives with me back with the dish. I know that was mean. Anyway she wasn’t home and son left it in front of the door and ran.
For the record son and I can cook reasonably well. We haven’t poisoned anybody or burned the house down.
Congratulations on your weight loss, brother
I turn 67 next week and have been pretty healthy
To be sure, the number of RX and OTC meds I take keeps growing, but they produce fairly good results
I always find myself having doctor and dentist appointments with increasing frequency
I plan to retire in a couple of years (from o”private sector” law practice, but not from work I do for our private business interests, which I hope will lessen the stress of my daily grind
Just turned 77 and I’ve had 3 of my doctors die rather than keep their appointments. Apparently, a lot of doctors leave their practice feet first. I figure I can out live a few more since my mother is still sharp and active at 103. Now all I have to is figure out how to be able to outpace Bidenflation, the effects of which will be with us for a long time, even if Trump can slow things down and undo some of the damage. The least he can do is stop digging the hole deeper.
I’ve outlived two doctors, so far.
There are some great comments on this topic. Is there an easy way to add a “thumbs up” feature to your blog?
Kim – good to see you do not plan on going quietly.
I’m 83; some say sound of mind, though that’s been highly questionable for the past 65 years.
I’ve also been very lucky; I found an excellent GP and a couple of good surgeons. My wife is also a great help; I’m of the opinion (backed by fact) that you don’t get older without constant aggravation.
I can’t go hunting (well, in the woods, anyway; I may have to turn Korean this last Biden summer) with my grandsons; they’re too young and walkers don’t do too well over tree roots, but I’m still down at the range every couple weeks.
From my vantage, I find it’s worthwhile to repeat the old adage, “You’re only as old as you feel.”
I saw this a couple of years back
I cannot see, I cannot pee
I cannot chew, I cannot screw
My memory shrinks, My hearing stinks
No sense of smell, I look like hell
My body’s drooping, Now trouble pooping
The golden years have come at last
The golden years can kiss my ass
Even so I’m still looking at the grass from the top. I can still hit the targets as long as they’re reasonably close and I can still keep my lady happy. I’ll go when God’s ready to take me. Until then I’m trying to have fun.