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Let life's many pleasures outweigh age's twinges

By SHEILA STOLL
Published July 26, 2005

My hair doesn't hurt. Neither does my left little toe or my right elbow. I'm ignoring the raccoonlike rash around my eyes, assuming it's an allergy to the metal in the frames of my glasses.

One toe on my right foot injured itself without telling me. How did that happen? Apparently I've lost touch with certain remote body parts.

Fine.

My back and neck, on the other hand, are whiners. So are the calves of my legs.

Many medication dealers are eager to solve my lower back pain by sticking me with needles.

I guess all of this discomfort is the result of getting old, which beats the heck out of the alternative. But it would be nice if the enormous pain in the back of my head would give me a break. Why does it have to encircle my cranium, make my left eye droop and send me searching for Advil?

A voice speaks to me: "You're old; get used to it! And watch out going down the stairs. Trifocals are like those side mirrors on cars. Objects may appear to be smaller and farther away than reality dictates."

Got it.

I'm nothing if not slow on stairs, which appears to annoy younger, faster people. Tough. All things come to she (or he) who waits.

Waking up in the morning with my eyelids stuck together is an instant reminder that there are biological processes at work over which I have no control.

I can squint through one eye sufficiently to get to the bathroom, where a warm washcloth will restore what I think of as vision until I put on my glasses, then shortly thereafter rip them off to scratch the rash caused by the frames.

Ah, age!

For years doctors have told me I must smear on sunscreen before venturing into the sun. Now I hear that the cancers likely to attack me from lack of vitamin D are more deadly than the ones that will blossom on my papery skin. So I dither in the shade while Darling Husband bronzes in the sun.

There are choices: Two extra months in the intensive-care unit or real butter on my toast?

Drinking wine in the evening or living long enough to wish it was all over?

I may not be a senior role model, but I don't want to outlive the enjoyment of life. My objective is to make each year an opportunity to learn something, experience something new and tell you guys about it.

I'm assuming your eyelids aren't stuck together and you can still read the newspaper in the morning.

Write to Sheila Stoll, c/o Seniority, the St. Petersburg Times, P.O. Box 1121, St. Petersburg, FL 33731.

[Last modified July 22, 2005, 11:20:06]