I’ve been through proceedures that placed five stents around my heart. I’ve had back surgery to repair damage done during my carpenter days. I possess a lifetime’s worth of arthritis. I’ve been poked, prodded, and invaded during all those tests my doctor suggested for a “man my age”. Still, nothing—and I mean nothing—has made me feel as old as I’m feeling right now.
I’m using a walker. A WALKER for pity’s sake!
Granted, it is temporary (hopefully). Nonetheless, I feel every bit of my 69 years plus 20 or so more.
To be honest, I’ve been pushing a walker for a number of years. You know them as shopping carts. Whether cruising the aisles at Walmart, K-Mart, Kohl’s, Menards, or Lowes, or any store that offers those little four wheel beauties, I grab one when I go in the door. Somehow I always manage to get the one that has one front wheel aimed 45 degrees off center so I get a bit of extra exercise fighting it through the various departments of the store. Most of the time I actually don’t need the cart for shopping so I simply look as though I have great intentions of buying all sorts of goodies. Sure, I feel a little embarrassed when I approach the check-out stand with my cart and its contents consisting of just a greeting card, but I’m 69. I have no pride.
Using a walker is just another of those reality checks that come with aging. If you haven’t experienced one yet, just sit tight. Your day is coming. When it does be thankful if the reality check is nothing more than using a walker. There are far, far worse realities.
So, I’m thankful for my little four wheeled friend. It has been a great help in getting from point A to point B and to points beyond, even if it is a huge pain in the butt (and back) on stairs. Nontheless, I am going to use it to fullest advantage.
You’re certainly familiar with the old adage, “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade”. As I said, I’m hopeful my need for the walker is just temporary. That could change. Should the walker become my constant companion, I’m going to make lemonade. I’m going to have fun with it. Mine will be the coolest, most hopped-up, souped-up, snazzy, hip, cool, groovy walker yet to be seen. I envision headlights, tail lights, running lights, a crazy loud eight track player (They’ve gone out of style? Really?). Oh, yes, and turn signals. Not that us old folks ever use them.
Why not? It’s just aging. If you can’t fight it, make the best of it. Laugh a lot (when you’re not crying) and make the most of it.
It’s here to stay.