Tag Archives: Aging

Old Wrinkly Man Writes About Diapers & Death

6 Mar

I turned “old” yesterday, celebrating my fortieth birthday. For months I’ve been thinking about how I’ll spend the next forty years. Will I ever see Syndey or London? Will I ever jump out of an airplane? Of course, there’s no guarantee I’ll live another forty years. In fact, to prepare myself for the end, I’m pretending to be a Yale undergrad taking this philosophy class about the “d” word: DEATH. Well, I don’t see it as any kind of preparation; it’s just fascinating to me.

Anyhoo, I believe it’s common to freak out over milestone birthdays: thirty, forty, fifty, etc. I’m not freaking out, for I’ve considered myself to be “pretty much forty” for months, and, besides, it’s just a number.

In fact, it feels like a re-birth, like the ultimate New Year’s Day with loftier, long-term resolutions. It’s all about attitude, right?

Turning 40: Two things to be excited about

  1. I’m one year closer to wearing unisex incontinence underwear. If the Depend brand is still around in 2052, I’ll probably go with that, but, then again, knowing myself, I’ll probably buy a generic product to save a few bucks. My current, 40-year-old self drinks a lot of water and coffee. The need to urinate becomes a distraction and interrupts whatever I’m doing, even if that’s just sitting in my Ikea chair reading. It’s appealing to think about the day I can just “go” in my “breathable” unisex incontinence underwear and change it when I’m good and ready, or, better yet, when I instruct someone else to do it. And yes I still love stooping to potty humor whenever the opportunity arises.
  2. Younger guys say things like “Holy crap, I think I’m getting wrinkles around my eyes,” or “Jesus, was my forehead this big yesterday?” Now, I know I’m showing signs of breaking down. There’s just no question about it any longer. At some point you just have to accept it and worry about more important issues, like researching cane manufacturers and deciding what brand of old man shoes will best compliment my skinny old man legs.

I had planned on five things to be excited about, but I almost had a stroke  trying to think of anything beyond this.

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Feelin’ Forty: Some Thoughts on Aging

3 Jan

I turn 40 this year.

Turning 40

Some consider the big 4-0 one of the most difficult milestones, like Oh my freakin’ God, yesterday I was young, today I’m old. But “old” is subjective. I don’t feel old. I still have hair (non-gray). I don’t have unexplained pains. My energy level is usually high. A quick web search tells me that I can expect to live to around 77, so, going by that, I’m more than halfway done with this life. Given my relatively healthy lifestyle, I’m going to predict I’ll live to see 80. So . . . I’m half dead . . . is one way to say it.

But when I first “existed” on March 5, 1972, I didn’t know–to use a colloquialism–my ass from a hole in the ground. I don’t even remember the first 4 years. I probably didn’t get much done.  I didn’t work a single minute on important global issues (my mom would have told me if I had). I just crawled–then ran–around and . . . developed, I guess. I sat around playing with little wooden toys. My point was going to be that the next 40 years will be better than the first.

Then I thought about it for a minute, always a mistake. It’s possible that my last 4 years (theoretically from age 76 to 80) will, again, be spent trying to figure out the difference between my ass and a hole in the ground. The first 4 years is tolerable because a lot of the silly stuff you do is adorable, but can you find anything adorable about a grown man pooping into a diaper, ripping it  off with one hand, and then winging it into a ceiling fan? Oh, you do, huh? Sicko. And don’t accuse me of making fun of Alzeimer’s sufferers, because I’m writing about about things I’ve already started doing.

I’m just thinking out loud here.

I’m writing about this because I’m sitting near two “old” people in Sacred Grounds. They’re in their 70s, maybe 80s. They’re wrinkled up like a couple of raisins and they’ve gone gray up top. I just can’t keep my eyes off these people. I want to ask questions. What do you think about your . . . oldness? Does it take a day’s worth of energy to get to and from the coffee shop? Are you guys wearing diapers?

I went to the restroom, came back, and they were gone.

I’ve decided that i’m okay with 40. I’m not going to worry about things I have no control over. All the wisest people, past and present, will tell you the same thing. They say “Dude, worry kills!” The Alcoholics Anonymous folks are going on and on about it right now in church basements all over the world.

God, grant me the power to keep my diaper strapped on until someone comes along to change it and the power to not worry about how the Serenity Prayer goes.

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