So someone forgot to pass out the instruction manual for people over sixty-five. Sure, they send you the Medicare card and your Social Security info. But we need instructions on how to find out why a new ache or pain shows up every morning without warning? Most times, you have no idea how or why or how it got there; so where’s the easy-to-read chart to navigate this golden-years crapola?
It’s no longer possible to just hop up out of bed in the morning. Now it’s a process.
First you have to ask your body’s permission to get out of bed. If you get the all clear then make sure that movement doesn’t equal pain.
Or at least a minimum of pain anyway.
When you ascertain you can actually lift your tush off the bed, that first step in the morning tells the tale.
If someone mouths an OUCH, and it’s you, that means you might spend the better part of the morning figuring out what you did to piss your body off.
Was it how you slept on your arm? The shoes you wore last night for that party?
Did you sleep in a crazy position? Has the ouch fairy left you a quarter under your pillow, plugged in the heating pad?
You may be asking why it is important to track down the cause of the pain and not just inhale the Motrin and shut up, but I’m an optimist.
I still believe if I can find the cause I can avoid these little skirmishes with my body.
Stop laughing, I can hear you.
Yes of course, pain is a part of life at a certain age that we’ve come to expect. At least many have. I know there are the lucky ones who have managed to hang onto youth. Don’t you just hate those guys?
There is an ouch factor inherent in our existence that now embeds itself into our lifestyle.
But there is no manual to avoid the aches and pains. Despite inhaling kale, force feeding oneself handfuls of vitamins each day and promising to hit the gym, we wind up in the garage for repairs like a classic Corvette. Love my new bionic knee.
Oh, sure there are urban myths about people who actually awaken in the morning without discomfort or pain. I’ve heard tell, and I’ve dreamed one day it might be me. But alas, these tales are as credible as the fodder spewing from a politician’s mouth.
On occasion a friend will remark about someone they know who can run a marathon, walk ten miles or feel as spry as when they were fifty. Of course, we both laugh at the thought and discuss how hard it is to climb the stairs now. Then we drink a toast to the guy who invented escalators.
My response to these fables is always, show me the proof and I’ll believe you. I do believe we grow more skeptical as we age.
After seventy my week consists of perhaps one doctor appointment, PT session, Maj game, ordering groceries online and lunch with a friend. This creates the illusion life in the laugh laugh golden years is business as usual. And we all know the usual was shopping, working, lunch, rush home to make dinner and get the kids ready for bed. Then get up the next day and do it all again.
It is to laugh. I once lived that life. However, by the way my body reacts now when I simply try to raise myself off a chair and it takes five minutes to straighten up, I have a hard time believing that person ever existed.
Yet what is one to do? Maj Jong has become a bit louder now because no one can hear the tiles called anymore. Food is an adversary instead of a welcome friend. And my body is adamant it needs a day off now and then to recharge its batteries.
Plus, getting up in the morning is the equivalent of playing Name That Tune at the doctor’s office.
I can name that pain in two ouches. I can name it in one… okay, so name it.
The doctor asks where is the pain?
“I’m not sure,” I say. “It could be below the waist, but I do feel it above the waist also. And it travels to both sides and down my leg.”
Of course he asks, “Did you do anything different yesterday? Lift something heavy perhaps?”
“Sure. I went to the gym and benched three hundred pounds. Look at me Doc. Isn’t it enough I lift my ass out of bed in the morning?”
“Are you eating right?”
After I stop laughing, I assure him I’m eating far better than I once did, although through no choice of my own. Lord, I miss chocolate.
He asks if there is anywhere it doesn’t hurt?
I think a minute before answering because it’s important to get this right. “I’m not sure because I kind of feel ouchy all over.”
“Ouchy all over,” he responds.
I imagine that’s a phrase that makes it super easy for a doctor to diagnose. I can see the commercial on TV now. For that ouchy all over feeling take two time-release tablets and get through a day like you were fifty again.
Side effects may include, nausea, heartburn, backaches, heart failure and a bit of dizziness upon awakening. Certain cases have been reported of hip breakage and balance issues. Lymphoma may occur on rare occasions. If any of these symptoms occur call your doctor or go to the hospital immediately.
Now I’m no medical genius, but I think I’ll take my chances without these miracle pills. Ouchy is looking good after hearing all those side effects. Are these drug companies trying to heal you or scare you to death?
We all accept that most days you’re never going to feel the way you did when you were forty, but sixty is looking good here.
So I’ve decided to make friends with the ouchies that greet me upon awakening. I think if you get out of bed with only one familiar ache, it’s a good day.
Let’s face it, our bodies have slowed down a bit, the least we can do is cut them some slack. Do I feel the same as I did twenty years ago? Did I expect to? No and no. But one must simply tell oneself we are lucky to be here aches and all and get on with it.
But I still think a manual would be helpful.
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