Hell of a Guy

Birthdays Suck, Unless You Don’t Have One…


As I have one of those nasty birthdays ascending on me as a rapid pace, I cannot sit here and say I am very excited at the prospect of it. It will by my 73rd of what at juncture is a downhill slide, and I am okay with that as long as the downhill grade is not at an acute angle.

I remember a time when I was still a working stiff, in my sweet company car driving to an appointment as I listened to a man and woman talking on the radio, I think they were out west somewhere. They were talking about various news stories, one in particular caught my ear. The guy was reporting on a story about a California woman who was about to become the oldest known woman on the planet at age 116. The woman began to giggle and quipped, “Who in the world would ever want to be 116?” Well, it took me about a second to scream at the radio, as anyone with half a brain might have done at that moment, “Someone who is 115.”

Think about this for a second; how many people in their right minds really wish to die? I would suspect those whom fall in this category are a mere fraction of 1%, probably pretty close to zero.

As a rational person, at least I think I am, I truly do not mind getting older, though it does give me something to think about. It is not the getting old that bothers me as much as the loss of function. I do not hear or see as well as I once did. My bowel habits are fluctuating, my prostate gland isn’t working as it once did or is supposed to work. My knees are weak – when I get down, I plop down the last few inches and when I attempt to rise I need something to assist me, something to grab onto. My back aches 99% of the time. And then there is the funniest scene ever, me trying to put on socks (I remind me of my dad).

But in the end, well, not really the end but close, all is good. I have no complaints. In my case I view it as the Universe unfolding exactly as it should. I am in this for the long haul.

And that is all I have to say about that… 

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