Tag: bladder

Tripping The Light Not So Fantastic

I imagine we all remember how slowly time passed when we were young. It always seemed like summer vacation was a lifetime away.

I also remember how we all rushed through our lives. We couldn’t wait to turn sixteen so we could drive, or twenty-one so we could drink.

As we grew older we thought, wow, pretty soon I’ll get a senior discount.

How stupid do I feel? If I knew then what I know now, I’d say, screw the driver’s license I’m good just walking.

And to be excited about a senior discount? What the hell? Were the drugs we did in the sixties finally kicking in?

In our rush to speed through life and get to the next milestone faster than an LA blond chases a rich, old fool, we forgot one important thing…aging is a bitch!

We also were too foolish to realize that the road we hurried to travel was one way and return tickets don’t exist.

About getting older there is something upon which we can all agree…it sucks.

My life now is made up of doctor’s appointments, remortgaging the house to afford trips to the dentist, and an inability to live without an ice pack or heating pad attached somewhere to my body.

I travel frequently now. Only my trips aren’t to Europe, Asia or Bora Bora. They are trips over the rug, the curb, or the sidewalk that lifted up from a tree root. Hard to love trees after you kiss the pavement at twenty miles an hour.

I can even go to bed at night and wake up with a pain somewhere I didn’t possess the night before. It’s like the tooth fairy has been replaced by the pain fairy.

I find myself tripping and not in the way Timothy Leary proposed, but over any object that’s within two inches of my feet.

I swear sometimes I have seen a rug actually move closer to get under my foot and send me flying.

Someone should invent trip-free shoes or slippers that yell a warning when they see an object coming to get in our way. Now there’s a Nobel Prize I could sanction.

Speaking of trips, the bathroom is a place I frequent often at night without the need for a passport. Good luck getting back to sleep again. My bladder used to be the size of a lentil now it’s shrunken to a raisin.

Don’t for one minute think I’m alone in this clumsiness convention here. I’m always receiving calls from friends, and the minute I hear their voices I know immediately.

I start the conversation with, “Okay so where did you fall?”

If you think for one minute that after you heal there won’t be another adventure in pain awaiting you, I have a bridge in Brooklyn to sell you. If you can get across it these days.

Black ice, the enemy of the aging is the reason people move to Florida and Arizona. Even people who are old and senile are smart enough to know not to move to California for warmer weather. The danger of catching stupidity and insanity in this state can be fatal.

So, life has pretty much become, okay, on to the next thing. Or my favorite mantra, this too shall pass.

Of course, I haven’t even mentioned the really bad stuff that’s harder to fix than using ice packs or heating pads. There’s that to contend with as well.

So you’re probably thinking, “I know people who are old and live amazing and active lives.” That’s so rare Netflix does specials on them. Did you notice they all seem to live in clusters in a place that probably has no throw rugs, black ice or uplifted curbs.

I’m certain everyone over the age of sixty-five has a list of places they’ve fallen and every doctor or dentist they frequent is on speed dial on their phone.

My new favorite is going to lunch with friends. While we once used to actually peruse the menu for our favorite dishes, we now check for foods we are allowed to eat.

A typical friend’s lunch these days sounds like this…

“Oh I love their ravioli, but last time I ate it I was sick for a week.”

“I know, it gives me terrible heartburn. I’ll just have a salad.”

“I can’t eat salad, the ruffage gets to me.”

“They say you shouldn’t eat certain vegetables if you have acid reflux.”

“No green pepper please. I’ll be burping it for days.”

“I can’t live without my Tums. They literally save me.”

“Let’s order quickly cause if it gets too late I can’t eat a complete meal.”

“Waiter, can you please ask them to go easy on the garlic and make the marinara sauce with cream? Otherwise it’s too acidic.”

“I’ll just have half an order of the spaghetti please. If I eat too much, I can’t sleep all night and easy on the salt, I bloat.”

‘I was going to have a face lift but I decided to have my bladder lifted instead.”

“You’re smart to do that. Who can handle wearing those diapers?”

“Oh, and waiter, be careful not to trip over my cane, I’m still recovering from a fall.”

Lunch nowadays sounds more like a medical convention than a meal.

Then there’s the balance issue. I used to have such great balance that seals with balls on their nose envied me. Now I have to hold onto walls when I’m attempting to exercise.

Yet on a positive note, I do have friends who stay active especially the ones I call the pickleball posse. They seem to be able to do the things so many of us only dream of doing now.

Forget pickleball, I’m thrilled if I can just eat a pickle without heartburn.

Walking downstairs used to take a minute, but now it takes half the day. Instead of one foot after another, it’s one foot then put the other foot on the same step and then move on to the next one.

And heaven forbid there is no railing.

I have so many bars in my shower and tub now it looks like saloon row in Las Vegas after dark.

I guess if we weren’t all talking about our aches and pains we’d have to discuss the horrible things we now call reality. So maybe a fall or two is worth avoiding the bad trip that is the news today. Let’s face it, hanging in there is still the real goal.

I guess being a klutz is a good thing after all. It does prove we’re still here and kicking. Well maybe not kicking…

So I Got This Text From my Liver: Stop Sending Me These Damn Pills

In elementary school they offered a class in home economics which taught us the art of loading a dishwasher, how to stuff a date and how to sew a waistband. Okay, so none of these things truly prepared me for life as a whole, but at least they tried.

I feel entitled to bitch because I am so tired of getting a senior discount without even having to ask for it.

Now I’m wondering why no one prepares you for the greatest challenge in life…growing older.

Sure, people write books about how to live forever, how to age gracefully and how to stay healthy, but by the time you need these books you can already write one yourself.

So, what is the secret of learning to grow old gracefully and dealing with all aging entails?

Wrinkles, loss of mobility, forgetting things, wrinkles, loneliness, health issues, did I mention wrinkles cause I forgot, and of course appetite, medical and pain issues.

If one is lucky enough to live into the laugh laugh golden years you are on your own as to how to deal with the constant craziness that inflicts your existence each day.

Men find it impossible to get through a night without a dozen trips to the bathroom, where women can usually get through with only two or three. No one tells you your bladder retires to Boca years before your actual body and you’re left with only the memory of a functioning bladder to get you through the day. And night.

Is there a solution here besides Depends, prostrate surgery and if that’s an option good luck to you?

Your body seems to take on a mind of its own which is a good thing since your mind is usually out to lunch. Now most of the exercise I get is from walking into a room, forgetting what I came for and walking back out. Then two minutes later I remember and walk back in again. Hey, it ain’t Dancing to the Oldies with Richard Simmons, but it is a form of exercise, sort of.

Who ya gonna call when you look in the mirror and see your parents staring back at you? Is that my mother’s ghost or me? Either way it’s scary as hell!

Nothing raises a red flag to signal you’ve crossed into an ancient zipcode than your body telling you it’s time for dinner at 4:30 in the afternoon. 

How many times have you heard your friends say,” I can’t eat any later than six o clock or I’m up all night?”

I had spare ribs for lunch on Sunday and I was still tasting them at Monday night’s dinner. I used to love a great spare rib, now the only rib I can handle is when my grandson’s tease me about getting old.

I also wish someone would tell the truth about reducing inflammation. Can I help my arthritis if I stop eating dairy, meat, drinking wine or liquor, (just when you start to need it most) fried foods, bread, chocolate, sugar and wait a minute what the hell is left? And no, I don’t think you could make an argument that eating only Kale could be considered a quality-of-life diet. 

I just found out I have arthritis in my jaw. Guess we know why that is because if any part of my body is degenerating from overuse it would definitely be my mouth! Isn’t it bad enough that we have to watch our once full and luxurious locks disappear down the drain every time we wash our hair? Now I have to consider eating and talking a luxury.

Or that we have to see the stretch marks once on our hips start drifting downward to our thighs? 

Can someone teach a course in how to see the numbers on your cell phone? Or how to spot a spam call about social security or where to get the strength to get off the couch?

Of course there are older people that have enormous energy and are tech savvy. I have many friends who play pickleball, whatever the hell that is, and some are even still working. 

So what’s the big secret everyone has to write a book to share?

Many say it’s attitude. I suppose an argument could be made that mind over matter is a component, but I’ve known many people with great attitudes who are six feet under right now and didn’t make it to old age.

I guess there is not one magic bullet that can keep us young. In fact, I don’t think there’s a whole gun store full of bullets that can accomplish turning back the clock. And this whole schtick about age brings wisdom is a crock because wisdom is meaningless if you can’t remember it. 

“Yes, grandson so when I was young I used to believe that, but now as I’ve aged I learned…”

“Learned what Grammy?”

“What I just told you. The bit of wisdom I just imparted to you about that thing. You need to remember these gems of wisdom I tell you.”

“What gems?”
“About the thing we were talking about.”

“But you didn’t tell me anything.”
“I just told you what I learned.”

“Okay, Grammy, sure and thanks for sharing your wisdom with me.”

You watch your grandson walk away shaking his head and believing he’ll never get old and forget like you; but we all do, we all do.

Is it possible to exert any control over these “things” that happen to you? To change the direction your mind and body are taking and reverse the trend?

Hell if I know. I think we all make an attempt to do what we believe will help slow the process.

I’m learning a new language because I’ve heard it helps your brain. How can you actually measure if it works or not? If it doesn’t I won’t remember I even learned that language anyway.

I’ve heard exercise helps. Well that’s something I can’t verify since my arthritis has decided the days of running and leaping are far behind me. And yes I realize there are also chair aerobics and low impact choices, but I’ve never pretended to like exercise except for retail cardio and I won’t now. Besides, I count changing my sheets as exercise and I’m not the only one.

So what about eating? Okay moving on here since the thought of living without ice cream or chocolate sends a chill down my spine only equal to the shower scene in Psycho. 

Is it fair that having spent my entire life being too short for my weight I’ve now shrunk and need to lose more weight to keep up?

Is it stress? Hello, it’s stressful getting older. How can you feel calm when every time you pick up the phone or check out Instagram you hear someone else you know has just died?

Is it helpful that they can’t make a hearing aid that creates such a loud buzzing you can’t hear anything? 

Good luck living stress free in the golden years.  One shooting pain in the “good” knee elicits a “damn-not-another-knee-replacement-stress reaction.”

Ah let’s get to the supplements. I have friends that spend about an hour a day just trying to ingest all the pills. Between the prescription drugs you need to stay alive and the vitamins, minerals and strange sounding supplements the average liver is spending all day just trying to sort and send to the proper organs throughout the body, there’s little time for the fun stuff. 

I can hear my liver bitching now…

”Let’s see now, the E is for the heart, the C for immune, D for what was it? How many letters are in the damn alphabet? What the hell is SAM E? Where should I send all this crap? I’m shutting down and going on strike here and no, don’t dare send me any supplements to boost or cleanse me!”

At a time of life where minutes are so precious, I refuse to spend most of my day swallowing pills!

Begs the question; is there a fix for old age? Sure, death. I guess that’s the only way to stop the aging process. As long as we’re here and breathing our bodies are slowing down.

When I was a kid Jack LaLanne was the symbol for exercise and a healthy lifestyle. He died at the age of 96, but so did my mother and she never met a salad or a healthy meal in her life.

The only exercise my mother got was running after my father to yell at him. Actually, that did provide her with a lot of steps every day and she must have worked off a ton of calories screaming.

If there is an answer and I’m not sure there is, we can only do the best we can. Sometimes I’m better than others. Some days my diet is atrocious and some healthy. 

Some days are stress filled and others Zen.

At times I walk a great deal and other days my ass is attached to the sofa cushion.

There are so many variables involved in how one ages I could spend days trying to name them all. 

I still believe it’s a cocktail of genetics, luck, lifestyle, environment and attitude. 

I also believe it’s silly to worry because eventually something’s gonna get you. None of us lives forever, so as long as we make an attempt to enjoy the minutes we have; what the hell, maybe that’s all we can do. If you agree just yell yes! Oh forget it, I probably couldn’t hear you anyway.