In his classic song, “When I’m 64,” Beatle Paul McCartney wonders if his significant other will still feed and need him when he reaches that magical age.
I’m already there so I no longer have to wonder. But I also know that she will pick me up off my butt after a particularly embarrassing fall.
The other night I was having a nice dinner at a restaurant but after I had paid and stood up to leave, my balance suddenly vanished and I fell backward, grabbing desperately for something to keep me from falling.
I couldn’t reach anything and fell straight backward, landing on my rear end, managing not to hit my head or any other tables. From the floor I looked up at the shocked face of a nice woman who was sitting at the table behind me.
Of course, she probably wasn’t as shocked as I was.
“I’m fine,” I said in response to her look and my wife’s concerned cries.
I had a couple of scrapes on my arms from hitting chair backs on the way down but no major injuries.
I often lose my balance these days. Someone suggested it is because of all the medicine I take. Maybe. But my doctor told me it is better to be a little unstable on my feet than totally unstable inside my body, which the medicine is keeping me from being, or something like that.
We Baby Boomers are the generation that hates being told what to do.
Wally Spiers, BND columnist
For most people, taking medicine regularly is part of growing older. But it makes you want to rebel. We Baby Boomers are the generation that hates being told what to do.
After all, who can really tell if medicine is helping or not? Maybe you would have good test numbers without it? The only way to tell is not take it and see how quickly you deteriorate.
That doesn’t sound like a good alternative so I remain a willing hostage to the drug companies and pay up.
Aging is such a gradual process. You often don’t notice the deterioration as it happens, just the results. I’m not sure when some things actually set in. When did I become incapable of throwing a ball more than 10 feet? Where did those age spots come from? When did getting up in the morning involve so much groaning and complaining? I mean physically. I have always groaned and complained mentally about having to get up and face a new day.
I’ve always been somewhat clumsy. I stumble over stuff. When does a little become a lot, or too much?
I never gave much thought to growing older. Sure, I was eager to get to 16 so I could drive, and 21 so I could be a legal adult. But 64? That was just a funny part of the song.
But think about it or not, age creeps up on you a little bit every day. The adjustments (back supports, medicine, diet, single-floor living,) are, if nothing else, interesting.