My recent fall has been a rather stark wake-up call. I’ve been able to coast along all of my life, fairly impervious to the ravages of time. When people ask how I am doing, my response has been, “If it weren’t for my scoliosis, I’d be amazing.” But I am sad to report I have not bounced back as quickly as I’d expected from this fall. OK, I fell, hit the wall, and bounced off it, slamming my head into a metal heating grate, knocking myself out and causing a mild concussion, a sore head, and neck. How’s that for dramatic? But what once would have been a minor setback seems to be a fairly major one for me now, and I have to confess, I don’t like it.
I am all too aware that my major disconnect is that while my body is aging, I still feel inside like I am a vital 35, at the peak of my prime. I still love to read. I devour four or five books a week, the latest being Whistler by Ann Pagett. I am delving into our nation’s history by watching documentaries, which all too often leave me grieving rather than with a sense of pride. I am still writing on this blog several days a week, keeping my writing skills honed. I am still piecing quilts, though no longer hand quilting. All this leaves me wondering why it is so hard for us to learn the lessons life tries to teach us. We just keep selfishly plowing ahead, repeating our mistakes, shutting out any implications our advancement or needs might have on others.
Aging is an interesting juggling act of not doing too much while still challenging our bodies and souls. Aging, like so much in life, is not something we can prepare for or anyone can tell us how to do. After all, we all approach aging from our own unique perspective. Of course, others can give us advice such as “don’t smoke, don’t drink alcohol, don’t use street drugs, get plenty of exercise, eat a well-balanced diet, etc.” Yet, when we are young, we don’t think about what life might be like when facing 90, so we do what we want, consequences be damned. While I did take care of myself, which has paid off, I also ventured into paths unknown and pushed the envelope to a large degree, and I am the better for it. After all, life is not for the faint-hearted.
I went to see the movie “Ulysses” with my granddaughter. I had read the reviews, all of which raved about the movie, but for this old woman it went too fast and was much too loud. Even with my hearing aids removed, I felt as if the noise was blowing my head apart. Yet, looking back, I see it as a metaphor for life, for we rarely have time to lick our wounds and heal before we are faced with another challenge.
Which brings me back to aging. We are offered this illusion, when we are young, that our golden years will be less stressful and freer from challenges. And that can be true, in part, but for most of us, our so-called golden years are often filled with financial and health-driven challenges. Two of my friends in their 80’s are still working because they can’t afford to stop. A friend in her 70s says she’ll be working until she drops because she has such high medical bills, even though she is insured. Most of us as we age need help in a variety of ways. And so it goes. The only real option, I have found, is that if we train ourselves to live each day in an attitude of gratitude, our problems don’t seem quite so big and the future not so dark.
Like my dad, who was my role model. I do not fear death. In fact, I am very curious as to what death will be like. Yet, life is still too exciting, too satisfying, even with serious falls, to throw in the towel. I figure I have more good years left in me (thanks to my daughter’s help), years of loving and being loved, giving and being given to, and appreciating each day as the gift that it is.