Creeping Decrepitude

Not to brag or anything but I have been killing it this week. I made dinner twice, vacuumed the house, cleaned and scrubbed our bedroom and master bath, took two loads of junk out of our attic to the dump, got all my tax stuff organized and delivered to the accountant, opened up the Cafe twice and found time for five workouts at the gym, which pushed my total post-retirement weight loss to 9 pounds. Today, the plan was to cap off my stellar week by serving the afternoon shift at the donation door of Hope Thrift. To insure that I had enough energy, Pam placed an order for two breakfast biscuits from RISE. She got the blueberry biscuit with sausage and egg, I got the buttermilk biscuit with country ham.

At RISE, if you order online, they place your bag inside a cool locker cabinet with glass doors. I saw our order in one of the doors on the bottom row. I reached down to open the door and claim my biscuits and immediately felt the tell-tale stabbing pain which stopped me dead in place momentarily until I managed to steady myself enough to reach inside the locker to remove the bag. Standing back up straight was the kind of awkwardly painful experience usually associated with torture protocols from the 9th century. I made it to the car where I took a minute to catch my breath. By the time I got home the spasms had lessened in severity so that I could eat my biscuit if I sat just so, facing the back yard. Pam went upstairs and found my muscle relaxer prescription. After breakfast I drove over to the gym and sat for thirty minutes in the steam room which yielded only temporary relief. As of this hour I am still in pain and about ready for my second and last muscle relaxer dose of the day. In a couple of days I will be fine. However, I must tell you how very frustrating it is to have back trouble. I can now add—reaching for an order of biscuits at RISE—to the list of things with the power to incapacitate my back. You might be wondering what some of the others are?

- brushing my teeth

- leaning over sink to spit after brushing my teeth

- unplugging random appliance from random electrical outlet

- plugging in random appliance into random electrical outlet

- reaching for towel upon exiting the shower

- inserting file into filing cabinet

The alert reader will notice that there is nothing on this list involving heavy lifting. You don’t see…

- trying to clean and jerk 200 pounds

- moving a piano up a flight of stairs

- attempting to cut down a tree with a crosscut saw by yourself

- joining in a pickup game of tackle football with some really nice high school guys at the park*

No, no…it’s the little things. And…it’s infuriating. I missed out at Hope Thrift, I’m walking around the house in slow motion, and now there are a week’s worth of Lucy’s bowel movements scattered in our back yard unmolested. No telling how long it will be until I will be able to pick those babies up!

I’m not one of those guys who is always longing for “the good old days”. I’ve learned to love the stage of life I happen to be in at the moment. Growing older is an accomplishment in and of itself. I’ve earned every gray hair and every wrinkle I’ve got. But I’ve got to admit, growing older brings with it a level of what might be called creeping decrepitude, a physical obsolescence that although predictable, is annoying as hell. Not a fan of back trouble. Not a fan.

Nevertheless, we move forward with perseverance because there are always people in so much worse shape than I am—by a long shot. My misfortunes are trivial compared to many guys I know. So, until that day when I assume room temperature, I will be thankful for all of my many blessings.

* which I may or may not have actually done once six months after open heart surgery many years ago…