As I inexorably creep closer to the big 6-0, I notice little things about my physical well-being that test my patience. A blister from running hasn’t healed after eleven days. A canker sore travels around the mouth for over two weeks. I can’t touch my toes as easily as I used to (but I still can!). Neuropathy in the feet. A ripped meniscus in the knee, which makes for unstable stair climbing, rock climbing, hiking, and unstable lifting of heavy objects. My skin does weird things. I have to moisten my fingertips when opening those thin plastic bags in the produce section of the supermarket because those hands don’t have enough moisture anymore. My glorious locks of soft hair…now reduced to thin and coarser strands. Bruises appear without knowing (or remembering—help!!!) how I got them. At least the shrinking hasn’t started yet. Then, there’s the issue of recovery time from hard work around the house—or exercise.
About that last one…I was talking with a young man in his mid-20s from Louisiana, and as we were kidding around, I told him that I had said to my sons, “I can still do pretty much everything I could in my 20s athletic-wise…but for the recovery time!” The Louisianan replied with a laugh, “If my dad said that to me, I’d make so much noise.”
I finally went to the doctor early in the year for plugged up ears—before COVID—congestion that hadn’t cleared for two months. It made flying back and forth from the East and West Coast miserable enough, but even more so to Asia and back. That congestion worsened my already challenged hearing ability. Back to the doctor visit: All the physicians in the clinic were so young. Funny thing, they used to be old people when I was growing up. What happened?
If you’re worried about me ageing, don’t be, because in the end, we’re all headed for tougher times. I’m not especially excited about seeing what the 60s will bring on this front. But don’t fret, I don’t turn 60 this year or next. If I survive COVID and this 2020 US election, I’ll finally get to experience life in my sixties in 2022. In the meantime, stay safe, wear a mask, and stay six feet apart when you’re around other people. (For those of you who live in Indonesia/Java and other densely populated places of the Earth, just do the best you can, because that “six feet” of social distancing realistically shrinks to “six centimeters.”)
About that last one…I was talking with a young man in his mid-20s from Louisiana, and as we were kidding around, I told him that I had said to my sons, “I can still do pretty much everything I could in my 20s athletic-wise…but for the recovery time!” The Louisianan replied with a laugh, “If my dad said that to me, I’d make so much noise.”
I finally went to the doctor early in the year for plugged up ears—before COVID—congestion that hadn’t cleared for two months. It made flying back and forth from the East and West Coast miserable enough, but even more so to Asia and back. That congestion worsened my already challenged hearing ability. Back to the doctor visit: All the physicians in the clinic were so young. Funny thing, they used to be old people when I was growing up. What happened?
If you’re worried about me ageing, don’t be, because in the end, we’re all headed for tougher times. I’m not especially excited about seeing what the 60s will bring on this front. But don’t fret, I don’t turn 60 this year or next. If I survive COVID and this 2020 US election, I’ll finally get to experience life in my sixties in 2022. In the meantime, stay safe, wear a mask, and stay six feet apart when you’re around other people. (For those of you who live in Indonesia/Java and other densely populated places of the Earth, just do the best you can, because that “six feet” of social distancing realistically shrinks to “six centimeters.”)
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