The first time I stood in front of my vanity mirror and saw who appeared to be a stranger was a riveting moment. OMG, that’s me, I thought. I came to the conclusion that I was, by all definitions, a senior citizen. The last time I had thought about my age was about five years earlier when I walked into a local McDonald’s and asked for a cup of coffee. Without asking my age, the twenty-some year old server leaned back, turned her head to the right and yelled “ONE SENIOR COFFEE.” I was puzzled, traumatized, and pissed off. At that time I wasn’t a senior citizen, by my standards, and couldn’t believe that she would yell such a thing. Well, several years later, I can honestly say that I am officially a senior citizen, and must learn to appreciate the qualities that make old age something to relish. Why is Larry writing about old age, and who is he kidding, “wrinkles, scars, irregularity, and a dose of old age make for great writers?” (That’s probably what you think.)
After a good deal of effort, I made it to my office, thinking that I needed to write something. I haven’t written anything for over a week. Well, I’m in a shit-load of pain that runs from my back to my buttock, to my right knee, and even my right shin. I’m on medication, and it still hurts. I’ve been seeing a pain management doctor for some time, and the injections no longer work. I have been referred to a surgeon who will go over my options. I have been told by a couple of doctors that I have spinal stenous. Now I’m being told that I am a good candidate for surgery. “Good candidate.” What in the hell does that mean? Did I win an award? In a few days I should know what will happen to my body, yes, the one with wrinkles, scars, and a good deal of irregularity.
At times we have to justify our present condition whether physical or emotional. That’s what I’m doing. I now believe that every wrinkle and scar on my body tells a story. Hey, I have a scar over my right eye where a rooster got on top of me when I was six years old and began to dig into my face. (We ate the rooster for Sunday’s dinner.) I have a scar on my left lower lip, caused by riding my bike off of a high porch and smashing my face against a brick. Another scar on my head from running into a garage when I had a blanket over my head. (I was playing kick-the-can during the evening.) I have a scar from hernia surgery when I was thirteen. I used to show the guys my scar when I was in gym class. I had an appendectomy surgery when I was twenty. My girlfriend wanted to see my scar. Oh, I can’t forget my big scar from prostate cancer surgery. Now I could tell you some real stories about that scar. (The prostate surgery was performed in 2006 and I remain cancer free. ) Okay, here’s some information about prostate cancer surgery. After the surgery, you are unable to have an erection for six months. But there is hope. If you want, you can give yourself an injection into your penis which will bring on an erection. Yes, reread that, it’s true. I chose the injection. It all comes down to how much you want sex. I’m assuming that we have a mature audience. I could go on and on about the prostate surgery but I should probably stop this discussion.
Now the wrinkles come as we age, as we continue to have experiences. Yes, they tell stories as well.
Okay, what about irregularity? Sit down with some senior citizens and listen to them talk. The subject always comes up — What do you take for your irregularity? How much fiber is in a whatever. More stories….
So, what does this lesson from an aging man tell us. Wrinkles, Scars, Irregularity, and a dose of old age make us into more interesting people, and if applied properly, make for great writers. I can’t leave this blog without telling you what made me write such a blog. Well, I’m in pain, taking heavy pain medication, feeling a bit depressed about the eventual surgery, and the need to write something. If you’re a bit spiritual, send a prayer my way. If you’re not, have a drink for me. If you’re spiritual and like to drink, say a prayer and have a drink. If I don’t make it through the surgery, think about me in this way — He was a good man, just a bit strange.