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On Growing Old
On Growing Old
As those of you who follow this blog know, I have lost a considerable amount weight over the past few months, and I’m proud of it. Through exercise and avoiding cholesterol in my diet, I have not only brought down my weight and waist circumference, but I’ve also greatly reduced my cholesterol numbers, my blood pressure (this morning it was 117/62) and my pulse rate. (My resting pulse rate in now somewhere around 50 beats per minute.
The results of the blood work that I had done last week show mostly positive things:
1. The liver’s fine (aMAZingly!).
2. The prostate is better than perfect. (I could have told them that!) The normal PSA number for that is 4.0. Anything higher than that can be an indication of cancer. My reading is 0.9.
3. Cholesterol and fats in the blood are all well within acceptable levels.
The only fly in the ointment here is my blood sugar. 100 is normal. 125 indicates full-blown diabetes. Mine is 123.
To be honest with you, this really didn’t surprise me. When I lost all of that weight, I figured I could get away with eating more sugar. I guess I went a little overboard. I KNOW that I can get this under control by diet.
My doctor agrees with me. She doesn’t like giving out medications unless it’s absolutely necessary. She also knows me, and she knows what my will-power is like. (I’ve told her a thousand times, "I wanna live forever!") However, she said, "Jim, you can have your ice cream. Just not five bowls a day!"
Like all the other trials in my life, I know that I can confront this one and win.
Except for the elevated sugar level, I am in the best physical shape in my life. I suddenly have a ton of energy, and I’ve dropped four inches around my waist. (My jeans are now size 34" instead of 38".)
Needless to say, I am very proud of myself. However, even after all of that, there is no getting away from the fact that I am growing old. Even though my body is fit and trim now, my face looks every day of fifty-five years, and probably more. The hair is almost pure white now. My wife says my hair color is a distinguished salt and pepper. (She is SUCH a sweetheart, and she loves me SO MUCH!) To be honest with you, I don’t see any pepper anywhere on my head. HEAVY on the salt. In fact, it looks like the top fell off of the salt shaker in mid-shake, and the salt just POURED out.
(This probably surprises some of you of the opposite sex that a man is concerned about his looks. Trust me on this one, I am not alone.)
This all hit home with me yesterday.
We had gone to our house in Maine last weekend with another couple. While there, the other couple took numerous pictures. Yesterday, we got a card in the mail thanking us for the wonderful weekend. Included with the card was a snapshot that they had taken during the weekend.
It took me a full five seconds to realize that the old man in the picture . . . was me.
I looked at the picture and saw, not my father, but my GRANDfather.
The hair. The crow’s feet around the eyes (Mary calls them "smile lines.")
Somehow or another, when I wasn’t paying attention, my face got old. I have been through a great deal in my life with addictions, physical ailments and physical abuse, and my face now shows it.
I would be less than honest if I said that that doesn’t bother me. It does. In fact, I’m surprised at HOW MUCH it bothers me! If I allowed myself, I could get in a really deep funk about it.
What happened to my youth? Where did it go? I wish I were younger, but I wish I were younger WITH the knowledge of life that I possess today. (Somebody once told me that most older people think of themselves as twenty years younger than their actual age. I KNOW this is true with me!)
I keep on telling myself that I can’t have my cake and eat it too.
Would I want to go back and be in my twenties again? Nope. That time in my life was too turbulent and too nerve-wracking.
I like being comfortable in my own skin.
I finally LIKE the person that I am. I like being secure financially.
I like being much calmer and serene than I was then.
I really like having a lot of friends who like having me around. (It really makes me feel great to have friends call when they know that I am alone for night or two, and ask me to join them for dinner or at the pub.)
I like being successful, and I don’t mean financially. I mean, I am deliriously happy with so many things in my life! I am married to a wonderful and loving person. My kids all love me and want to be around me. I have more friends than you can shake a stick at, ranging in age from early twenties to late seventies.
I LOVE being a grandfather.
I’m more active than a lot of people half my age.
So what bothers me? I guess it’s all appearance. I guess I just don’t like looking older.
Vain as all hell, huh?
Dye my hair? Nope. I’ve done that for dramatic roles. It’s a pain in the neck. And messy. (I still have brown stains on my bathroom walls where things got out of control!)
One consolation is that everybody else is getting older too. I just heard this morning that Mick Jagger turns sixty-five this coming Saturday, August 2. He’s eligible for an old age pension in Great Britain of $180 per week now. (The man is worth $450,000,000.) Good for Mick. GO for it, guy!
When I was shocked by the age of my countenance in the snapshot the other day, Mary could tell that I was genuinely disturbed by it. I looked at her and said, "Do I really look THAT old?"
She smiled and brushed my hair with her hand. She said, "You look wonderful to me!"
I’m telling you, she is the best thing since sliced bread!
posted on July 29, 2008 6:42 AM ()
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Mary sounds like a total sweetheart! 
Of course, I really don't care what that same someone has to say about older women. 
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"God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." — Reinhold Niebuhr