It's Hell to Get Old
I didn't make that up. I first heard it as a child from my great grandmother
Stella was in her 80's and 90's when she started telling me "Freddy, it's hell to get old." She said this when she was in great shape for that age. I am only in my 50's and am beginning to understand what she meant.
Stella was born in the late 1800's and lived to about 96 years old so you might say she saw a thing or two. I spent a lot of time with her and in addition to a few non traditional mentors in my life she had a large influence on my philosophical views.
Life with Stella
A few of of you readers with razor sharp memories might recall that I grew up in cow country. We were a few miles from the nearest town so by the time I was an early teen I would stay at Stella's place a lot of Friday or Saturday nights and go and hang out with my friends in the village. She shared a place with her son (my great uncle) but he was rarely around. He spent a lot of time "downstairs" in his general store and even had a bedroom set up down there in the back. The result is that we spent a lot of time together and I enjoyed the freedom of coming and going mostly as I pleased and the good home cooking of somebody who enjoyed having me around. She must have been around 85 when I started spending a lot of time there but was the picture of health for that age.
A decent roast, but never as good as Grandma's
I think what I learned most from Grandma was to state things in a matter of fact tone. She didn't mess around and have you wondering what she really meant. Can you see where that might have rubbed off on me? Towards my later teens she had a few operations but nothing very major and remained in decent health but in her early 90's she was no longer climbing ladders to paint the 15 foot high walls of her massive apartment and that's when I first started noticing her tell me "It's hell to get old." She never said it in a "poor me" victim kind of way that sought sympathy but said it more like a statement of fact. She must have gone to the nursing home by the time I headed off for college at age 18. That was some kind of depressing to see an able bodied and strong willed person you really looked up to reduced to full time in a bed for her last couple of years. She wasn't local so I only could visit a few times a year and selfishly that was OK because it was so damned depressing. When I would visit the home she would take a few minutes to get my name right after rattling off the names of some uncles and a couple of her sons but she knew who I was and was glad to see me. I would always ask her "How are you doing, Gram?" and her response was more direct honesty. "I'm just waiting to die" she would say, once again without any want for pity. She never seemed afraid of it or anything else for that matter.
I guess you could grow a thick skin after living through a couple of world wars and the Great Depression and everything else for almost 100 years on this earth. Liz, who writes a blog I very much enjoy at Rose Colored Water once asked me how we could shrug off some of life's curveballs like large unplanned expenses or anything else when things don't go quite the way we planned? We have had quite a bit of death and loss of our peers and elders the past few years and you get to feel all the emotions that go along with that but then keep going forward. I think growing up around such a stoic like Stella really has helped maintain in life when the shit hits the fan. It wasn't like Stella wasn't any fun or never had some laughs and I like to think we're sort of like that in le Smidlap Chateau as well. For me it relates to this one from a few weeks ago: Is That All There Is?
Just because it's hell to get old doesn't mean life is no more fun!
Why it's hell to get old
I'm only reaching "middle age" pretty recently. I turn 52 years old this year but I've had the immense privilege of experiencing some of the benefits of aging already. Early January saw me go 12 rounds in a bout with the shingles virus. If you have never heard it's the same virus that causes chickenpox. I was "lucky" that I had a mild version that was more of an inconvenience than the painful version that lingers around in some other poor bastards. Even with the mild version it felt a little like the Middle Age Club Welcome Wagon had arrived. I've been lucky in life not to have any chronic problems or broken bones or diseases so far in life. Maybe that's why my case was so mild with the overall decent health and a pretty regular sleep and exercise routine. I also went to Urgent Care right away on a weekend when I figured out my affliction with the help of Mrs. Smidlap and her friend Doctor Internet. The real Urgent Care doctor prescribed some anti-viral that does not "cure" the disease in the traditional sense but reportedly shortens the cycle. Mine started with just some pain like someone poked me in the ribs with a pool cue and at first I was wondering if I had forgotten running into something around the house in my wine addled state? Nope. I was just some ol' shingles. I didn't even miss any work because I never really felt "ill." Did you know there is a vaccine for shingles and that age 50 is the time when people are most susceptible to the illness? It turns out insurance will pay for the vaccine if you're over 60 so good luck with the 10 years between 50 and 60! Those insurance companies are nothing but cheats and liars and dirty dumb rotters!
Just as I was enjoying my shingles-free life the past few weeks I woke up Sunday morning with my usual routine of SportsCenter and CBS Sunday Morning and some green tea. Around 11 in the morning I told Mrs. Smidlap I was going back to lie down with a belly ache. Well, that belly ache got worse and worse and something was telling me it was a little different from the usual indigestion when I started sweating through all of my clothes while I was lying in bed. I was doubled over and moaning and groaning like a little creampuff. Even our dog, Banjo!, who is trained to leave me alone and not bother me when I'm in bed, came to check on me a couple of times. He must have senses that something was a little off. Once again Mrs. Smidlap called upon Doc Internet to diagnose me with a kidney stone! Waaahoooo! If this is middle age I can't wait to get to old age when instead of one of these a month I can have one per week! Where do I sign up for that?! It turned out that abdominal pain was all from come crystals causing my kidneys to bleed. I guess your body kinda rejects things like internal bleeding and signals its disapproval with things like profuse sweating and fever. We didn't go to the Urgent Care place but I just drank a bunch of water and was able to fall asleep, thankfully. I woke up a few hours later and all the pain was gone. I must have been dehydrated.
I may or may not have had a bunch of good juice the night before
So What?
I didn't come here to whine and cry about these little ailments. They went away and don't seem chronic. The whole thing did make me think about gratitude for generally good health and empathy for anyone with chronic pain in their life. We unfortunately are friends with a whole slew of people who are battling cancer right now or have recently been in cancer treatment. These little bumps in the road made me also think about balancing things by doing some of the stuff on your Life Wish List while your body is able to do it. I'm glad I made the most of this body when it was young and resilient because it might not always be that way. You can plan for tomorrow but don't forget to do some living today. If you're on the fence about those big life travels or some other adventure you might want to do it while you are able. Life happens and not only might you not be able to do it later but your interests might change and you might not even want to do it later. You just never know.
What about you Smidlappers? Any signs of aging getting your attention yet? Do you think it's hell to get old? I'll bet your glad I didn't include any shingles pictures or kidney stone pictures, eh?
boo hoo