I’m sixty-two. That officially qualifies me as a senior citizen, though I don’t feel old at all. I still do the things I used to, though I admit I’m more careful so I don’t slip and break something. Yeah, I consider the possibility now when before, it never occurred to me.
There were many reasons why I left MN for FL, and one of them was because the last winter I was there, I slipped on ice twice and both times, it hurt, and I wondered if I’d broken something. The weird thing is, over twenty years ago, I slipped on a deck step, twisted in mid-air so I wouldn’t land on my back and possibly cripple myself forever, and hit the edge hard on one butt cheek. Stunned, I half-lay there for a bit in the snow, waiting for the pain to ebb, then I forced myself up and into the car so I wouldn’t be late for a job. I cleaned houses back then for extra money, and by the time I arrived, I was capable of pushing a vacuum and scrubbing a floor. To this day, there is a slight dent in that ass cheek.
That was a harder fall than the ones I took a few months ago, but the truth is, spills happen more frequently as you age, so why take chances? When I rock climb, I now test every step before taking it. I focus on what I’m doing so I don’t do anything stupid. I still push myself, but within reason. I feel like a wimp most of the time, but if it saves me a broken bone or two, I’ll do it.
I’ve been considering my mortality lately, wondering how long I have to live and whether I’ll spend several years in a home somewhere before I breathe my last. Here comes some more truth about my life: my parents are alive but both are being cared for by medical professionals. My dad suffered a series of strokes that took away most of his brain, and a couple weeks before I left MN, my mother had one that paralyzed her on one side. The UPS man found her lying in the driveway. No one knows how long she’d been there.
What happened to them scares the shit out of me. Maybe not so much what happened to Dad, ’cause he’s happy enough on his mood-elevating pills and watching movies all day, but having a sharp mind and not being able to communicate in other than garbles and mumbles? Being cared for around the clock while inside, you fume and curse and wish yourself dead? ‘Cause I know that woman. She’s a bitch–always has been–and that’s what she’s thinking. Either that or, “I hate you all!”
That’s why I made up a loving, supportive mother. I didn’t have one. The only time I made her happy was when I was living my life the way she wanted me to, and that hardly ever happened. Everything I did was wrong, every choice was bad, and she never let me forget it. At least the stroke quieted her voice so I don’t have to hear it anymore.
I’m terrified I’m going to end up like one of them and be all alone.
Shouldn’t quality of life mean more than longevity? No one wants to end up sitting in dirty diapers, staring at blank gray walls, surrounded by the collective misery of the aged. This is bad if you are unaware. If you are aware, this has to be the epitome of hell.
Have you thought about the end of your life? What do you see?
He has statues all over the house. I think this one is pretty, and illuminated by lights… gorgeous. She has two strings on her, but one wasn’t working. Perhaps that was fortuitous.
Even though it was a hot night, R turned on the fire. This particular firepit (below) cost about $400, but when I said I’d like one that was smaller, he generously gave me one I will use in my courtyard when it gets cold. It’s exactly the right size.
I was using one of the plastic wine glasses, perfect for the pool area. Glass near the water is dangerous. Can you imagine trying to fish out tiny shards from a full pool? Uh, no.
Have a great holiday weekend! I won’t be back until Tuesday.