In life we ultimately discover that problems require solutions. However, the solution to all problems are many times perplexing and difficult to uncover.
There are times when I feel like Sherlock Holmes attempting to solve a case. One such mystery has me quite stumped and in the tradition of Dr. Watson I will name this case…The Night Prowler and Mystery Biter.
I assure you my situation is not unique. I have spoken to countless friends and acquaintances that find themselves faced with a similar conundrum and no solution in sight.
After studying many of these puzzling acts, I find myself close to a solution.
It all began when I turned sixty-five. Sure, Social Security was now on the horizon, but I couldn’t seem to find any correlation between my case and the monthly stipend from the government. So no conspiracy theory here.
I continued my investigation.
At first it was intermittent.
A bite here, a pain there. I took little notice thinking it was something that had happened during daylight hours.
Yet after a time I realized the events were occurring closer together and far more often.
I would awaken with a large red itchy mass on my cheek. Or a sharp pain in my rib or even an inability to actually move my arm.
I became more mystified as time went on.
More frequently the first words out of my mouth in the morning were OUCH! What the hell?
Not wanting to overreact to these nighttime attacks on my body, I attempted a reasonable explanation for these occurrences.
Aliens? Not so much. I had heard they probed earthlings through the belly button and nope, no evidence of that anywhere.
Having the hassle of working sans Dr. Watson my theories often came up short.
But I persevered. My determination was inspiring. Not quite certain to whom, but I digress.
First things first. How were these interlopers entering a locked residence in the middle of the night.
Possessing a secure entrance where I must buzz someone inside, it seems rather impossible. But, of course we know that if one is determined nothing is impossible.
The bedroom window I thought. They must be climbing up and sneaking in to beat me. Yet, I thought I might hear noises if that was the case.
I examined the possibility someone was driving a car through the window at such rapid speed it was like a flash going by in a dream. Too quickly for my eyes to even perceive.
Maybe that dream about participating in the Formula 500 wasn’t a dream after all?
No matter how I tried to imagine a plausible scenario, I couldn’t seem to come up with a viable reason why I awakened in the morning bruised, battered and full of ouchies.
I definitely wasn’t imaging these mystery bruises.
They weren’t there at night, but in the morning, I couldn’t turn my neck. Or my foot hurt, or a big red itchy bump was on my shoulder.
Was I running in my sleep? Who and what was sneaking in at night to beat the hell out of me?
What the heck, was my mattress made of, steel?
It’s not as if old age doesn’t afford you enough aches and pains, at night ghosts, goblins or ghouls are partying on my bed and kicking the hell out of me.
OUCH!
I once hopped out of bed in the morning. Eager to begin a new day. Filled with energy and ambition and tanked up with enough coffee to run a fifty-mile marathon. Okay, maybe not fifty miles.
Now if I simply turn my head to look at the clock it takes five minutes to stop the pain and another ten to turn my head back.
I’m beginning to think it’s not aliens at all. Or teenagers doing wheelies over my entire body with a GTO. I’m beginning to suspect it’s my body punishing me for not working out in college, or after. My body sees young girls with spandex on walking to the gym thinking, serves you right to suffer aches and pains after the way you neglected me.
But who knew?
To us exercise was walking back and forth to school four times a day. Riding our bikes to the drug store or playing dodge ball in a neighbor’s back yard.
It was walking to a friend’s home six blocks away and returning home before the street lights came on.
Running home from school when you got all ‘A’s on your report card.
Walking to the store for a quarter’s worth of penny candy and wax teeth.
Or chasing the Good Humor man down the street. “STOP! I need a Strawberry Shortcake Bar.”
It was going on the bus with a friend to that new giant mall and walking around there all day.
Or swimming in the summer because there was no air conditioning.
I believe that would qualify as exercise.
So why do I feel like I’m in horrible shape?
Why is my body so angry that it wakes up each morning with a chip on its shoulder, a bite or a big huge OUCH!?
We ate healthy, played healthy and there were no video games to keep us glued to a screen. Our feet were our mode of transportation and they worked great. Now it takes me ten visits to the shoe store to find a pair that doesn’t kill my feet.
Ageing is difficult enough when you can actually see the ravages of time. But the ones that are stealth, well that’s totally over the top.
I have to go now so have a great day. I’m setting up a teddy bear nanny cam in my bedroom. I’ll catch those suckers now!
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