way OT: salute to aging

• by The real Patch
• 2018-04-30 14:51:59
• General Posting
• 1115 views
• 2 comments

As my Birthday rapidly approaches and I ponder how tis I’m still here the topic of aging naturally crops up its ugly perverse head. Cut the bull there is nothing positive about aging, it’s merely moving us closer to the inevitable time when we stand before the big guy and answer why.
So back to the topic in hand, aging.

As I’ve aged changes are constant and none any too pleasant. In my youth, I was a jet setter and traveled the world constantly, now in my sixties I’m just a setter.

There’s the farting. Oops, sorry didn’t mean to offend, let’s call it "done with the wind". It would seem virtually everything that passes beyond the tongue combines with previously unused debris in the stomach into an eruption of toxic gas. And why, why, why is it that this blight strikes at the most inopportune times, like when we just sat down to dinner with the kids new in-laws, or when sitting in the front pew in church staring down the minister just when we bow our heads in silent prayer I might add. Side note they evacuated my Church Sunday. Guess that’s why we are referred to as old farts.

Then there is the need for many to have a transplant. Those of us who are challenged struggle whether to get a transplant, wear a toupee, or go au fresco. The irony of this crap is that we can do a full comb over using either nose or ear hair. What’s with that? Somebody explain the logic behind that please. I kid you not, I can mow that stuff and within 24 hours need to braid the hairs again yet not a single hair will grow on the top. Let’s face it folks, that look isn’t good on anyone including the p***.

Did I mention thanks to my open heart surgery, that I’m suspicious was unnecessary, the surgeon stood on my shoulders in his golf shoes and did severe nerve damage? Yep he wanted to make sure he made his tee time. Now my right hand is significantly atrophied and somewhat useless. Neighborhood children call me the claw. My writing is challenging to decipher, heck even my typing is barely legible.

Everything is sagging and drooping. Let’s just leave the description out on this one, okay? This is still a family site.

A few years ago I began seeing spot and don’t even know anybody with a dog named spot. More great news, they had to shatter the glass windows into my soul and replaced them with plastic, which is not even recyclable. A lot of people who saw my artwork during that time period thought it was quite good abstract work. I rest my case that abstract art is crap. Thing is, I’m pretty sure the Ophthalmologist must have picked his nose before implanting the plastic lenses cause there’s finger prints visible on both. Honestly I think if I had to do it over again I’d leave the cataracts, not seeing could be a blessing when driving in traffic with all the old people here.

Let’s don’t forget my favorite song is now, tinkle tinkle little star. That’s right the race to the porcelain throne. I swear I spend more time in the oval office than the President. Just an observation, not a political commentary. Granted I must take diuretics to keep the fluid buildup down to a reasonable level , but having to plan even a trip to the store based on where bathroom availability is really a pain. I admit I one time considered adult diapers, but I’ve heard that tell-tale swishing sound of wet diapers some of you guys make when you walk by, it ain’t appealing.

I have a CRT-D to keep my heart under control. Without it that beast in my chest goes rogue. Isn’t technology great? I swear they, whoever they are, use that thing to monitor my every movement, every thought, every misstep. At night I can see that box they insisted I place on the night stand flashing as it reports on how I went astray during the day. When I’ve been particularly bad, by their rule book, I get a full shot of juice and then more than that damn box begins flashing. If that ain’t mind control I don’t know what is, though I will admit that I can dance the Macarena with high proficiency now.

Ah drugs the magic elixir that keeps many of us operational to some degree or other. Reading that Pharmacy information sheet that comes with the multitude of drugs we take can make even a nose hair comb over turn from orange to grey. But did you know side effects are actually designed into drugs? That’s right, they plan that so that while you deal with and treat the side effects your forget your actual ailment. Smart huh?

So my friends as I approach another year, I raise my hand, and the one finger that still works, in a silent salute to aging…