Where Am I?
Don’t look at the picture because that ain’t me.
Let me tell you where I am.
I have a new cane. I am at the age which many out there refer to my pathetic situation as the “Golden Years.”
I wish to correct that. I think of it as the “Rust Years.”
Let Me Tell You All About It
Cataracts
The only thing which ever came out positive for me during my Rust Years is that I had cataract surgery and my eyesight went from 20/40 corrected to 20/25 uncorrected.
Of course, had it not been for the rust, I wouldn’t have had to endure the damned surgery at all.
And it ain’t cheap. Especially if they use a laser.
Obtaining the Privilege of Requiring a Cane
It was like this.
In October of 2020 (a really swell year), I walked down the stairs from my office over the garage, I walked a couple of steps into the little hallway between the stairs and the kitchen. So far, everything is okey-dokey.
Then my damned right knee buckled.
Had I not been able to catch myself on a door jamb, I would have fallen flat on my face.
It only required two or three minutes to edge my way to a chair. About 15 feet.
Let’s not go into calling my daughter, the emergency room, and so on.
If you haven’t guessed, I lived.
Let’s just say that I have a damned cane and be done with it.
Walking From A to B With My Cane
It is strange.
It isn’t step, step, step, …
It is step, plop, step, plop, step, plop …
Walking down a grade, it is step, plop, pray, step, plop, pray, …
Stairs are tricky. But about the same cadence as walking down a grade.
Oh, yes, I need my non-cane hand to hold onto a stair railing.
By the way, I no longer take steps two at a time. Of course, I haven’t done that in the last 30 years. Maybe 40.
Sometimes, I damned near trip over my cane. That’s what I get for thinking I’m 75 again.
Taking a Shower With My Cane
Who needs a rocket ship to Mars for excitement? Certainly not I.
For the first couple of months using a cane, a shower was a real adventure. I couldn’t use my wood cane. I did, though, have a shower chair.
Then I purchased a waterproof cane which has four little feet so it can stand on its own. Now a shower is merely a minor adventure.
Grocery Shopping With My Cane
Let’s don’t go into walking all over the damned store because I have fully discussed step, plop, step, plop, step, plop …
And then, there is squatting down. A real adventure.
If I must squat to get an item from the bottom shelf in a grocery store, it is very exciting. Especially if the item is sitting a foot back from the front of the shelf.
Actually, squatting down is no real problem.
Getting back up is touch and go.
If I had cleverly left my cane hanging on a shelf a few feet away, I have to find something stable to allow me to push myself up.
If I still can’t get up, I am at the mercy of other customers passing by to help me. The big problem there is that many of the customers are old women who are in worse shape than I am.
Last but not least, I am limited in how much and how heavy my purchase is.
I bought one of those tote bags to carry stuff. So I cannot buy more than will fill the bag.
If you don’t understand, I have to use one arm for the damned cane.
On top of that, it can’t be too heavy. I have to tote the thing to the car. Tote the thing from the car to the door in my garage which gets me into my house. But, alas, to get to the door, I am confronted by four brick steps. (Remember, step, plop, pray, step, plop, pray, …)
What Really Irritates Me
I have already discussed that ridiculous “Golden Years” business so let’s just skip that.
For your information, A Seychelles giant tortoise, Jonathan, is around 189 years old, and earlier this year, 2021, he was still alive and kicking.
Now a conversation with me on age.
“What is your age?”
“I am 82 years old.”
“No, you are 82 years young.”
“I’m old. I’m not a damned turtle.”
If you think on it, how can a man who is 82 years old be in any way, shape, or form young? Maybe that’s a song, “Stupidity In Motion.”
But when someone says to me, “You are only as old as you feel,” I go nuts.
I attempt to coolly respond, “And therein lies the damned problem.”
Mutiny
At this point, I must be forgiven for a flight of fantasy.
But, as calm and cool as I usually am, on occasion, I go berserk.
Sometimes, as I am helplessly hobbling, I confront a crew of consolers.
The captain of this consoling crew says, “You are only as old as you feel.”
I know this captain. He is a pushy person who parrots pedestrian phrases. He has a perilous past.
– He has controlled craft in continuous concentric circles.
– He yearns for yellow.
– He caught a culprit cribbing cheese.
– He searched for a suspected stealer of strawberries.
– He spins small steel stones.
I confront the cruelly consoling captain.
I know what must be done.
I must make mutiny.
Or in other words, I whack the hell out of the twit with my cane.
* * * * *
P.S. And I read the book.
