In Small Increments

By the time you are my age, you are no longer in denial. Giving in to reality is freeing. The next step is watching the progression, in small increments, and keeping one's sense of humour as the unfunny events unfold. Of course, I am talking about what is on every 'boomers' mind in this decade, and that is aging. The physical deterioration started many years ago, perhaps in our thirties when we came to the realization that no matter how hard we worked, we would never qualify to play on an NHL team. They call it 'past the prime'. Life was still pretty good then and we had a long span of good years to look forward to, but that constant reminder, that we were no longer getting better, but had peaked, was the beginning. We had a great consolation, though, and that is that while we were deteriorating physically, our mental agility and wisdom was still on the rise. Comes the early sixties and now even that has been taken from us.
It starts with having to write everything down. The mental lapses become more frequent and more prolonged but we acquire a talent of covering up for these 'brain farts'. We roll out the standard jokes and everyone laughs it off and falsely believes that it will not get much worse. Once we retire and eliminate the stress of work, there will be a miraculous recovery of wits as we finally get enough rest. But, suddenly we realise that we did not plan well enough for retirement and will have to work longer than we ever imagined. The stress sets in again and the deterioration accelerates. One thing that distressed me for the last few years is my inability to spot the right tool in my tool box when it is there, right in front of me. I used to be able to scan the box and pick up the tool. Now I have to look at each tool and decide if that is the one I want. By the time I find it, I forgot what I needed it for. Don't laugh. If this has not happened to you, it will.
I visited my 88 year old father today and he told me a new story. Yes, it is true. He was coming back from his lunch in the care home and when he walked into his room, he wondered why the photograph of his great grand kids sitting on his desk did not look right. He then opened the drawer and saw things that "did not look right". Then from behind him, a shrill voice cried out, "What are you doing in my room?" He actually had to go to the door and see that his name and room number were not there before he believed he was in the wrong room. He could not get over it that it was happening to him. At that moment I caught a glimpse of my future.
By the time I get there, I will be well practised because as I got into my car, after the visit, I realised I had forgot to hang the parking pass on my rear view mirror so my car would not be towed. No, it was not towed, and good thing. I would have had to identify it out of a line-up at the impound lot.