Is the second half of life really the better half? To put it bluntly—absolutely not. Now don’t get angry and don’t panic; it doesn’t mean life can’t be splendid and fulfilling. I’m simply referring to an undeniable fact—you’ll be presented with more negative issues as time flies by.
Generally these are medical in nature; however, there are myriad other concerns to help prove my contention. Sadly, and with much regret, I now present a few for your assessment. For me the downhill slide began around 50. It proved mostly mental at that point. Something about the number 50 that rubbed me the wrong way. The following tutorial will concentrate on those of us over 60 years old.
Let’s begin with an easy one to swallow—your dream of becoming a rock star is dead. Enough said, moving on.
One of the more trivial yet catastrophic events in my life occurred when I purchased my first plastic seven-day pill holder. I had postponed it for quite some time, but out of necessity bought a super-deluxe model with 14 multi-colored compartments, two for each day.
At that point in time, hip replacement surgery would have been less traumatic. To this day, when I have visitors my pill container is hidden in a desk drawer, not unlike a drug dealer stashing his weed when friends come over to party.
Two years later, I received the new and improved Pill Hotel as a Christmas gift. I now dread the day when, out of necessity, I purchase my first economy pack of Depends at Costco—shoot me, please. Memory loss is gradual in most old-fogeys. One of the more trivial yet catastrophic events in my life occurred when I purchased my first plastic seven-day pill holder (just kidding, wanted to make sure you were paying attention).
My memory isn’t that bad–yet. My problem is I can’t remember if I’m repeating a narrative to the same person. I’m aware I’ve told the tale to someone, but can’t remember who. Most of my stories are extremely boring enough the first time around, so I truly pity the person who has to listen to such drivel twice.
On the bright side, forgetting the content of movies you’ve seen can be a huge plus. Every six months I can re-watch my favorite—The Godfather, Apocalypse Now and The Wild Bunch, for the first time. Of course this can backfire if you forget and view a crappy flick like Love Story, Showgirls or Catwoman two or three times. The most exasperating aspect of aging for me is the conversation with other codgers when talking in a group. No matter how much I attempt to avoid it, the dialogue inevitably turns to health issues and upcoming doctor visits or medical procedures.
In a group of three or more old coots it takes about two minutes for the discussion to descend into the world of healthcare. We can be discussing potential presidential candidates and someone will bring up his recent knee surgery. Then it’s someone’s arthritis, or our digestive system, or who’s got the best urinary function, and don’t forget my personal favorite, comparing prostate sizes.
I wanted to talk about the Chicago Bears one day, and before I know it, I’m receiving a crash course on proper bowel function from a 70 year old geezer who can’t stop his nose from running.
I could carry on all day about health problems and repulsive medical procedures related to aging, but that would prove mind-numbing. We are all fully aware of the medical pitfalls associated with getting older.
I frankly believe that the first half of my life, when I was younger, stronger and faster, was better than the second half (so far) now that I’m older, weaker and slower.
There’s a classic line from a Bob Seger song where he’s talking about his youth that goes, “I wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then!” He’s yearning for those bygone days when he was younger and dumber. I’m probably just throwing a pity party for myself right now due to the fact that I’m heading out to my doctor’s office soon to get the results from my recent physical. I believe he’ll probably prescribe another pill or two to add to my cherished, overcrowded Pill Hotel.