By Jimmy Pimentel
MY DOCTOR gave me a cheeky smile when I came to complain: “Doc, I get out of breath lately when I run a bare 50 metres, and I get constipated often these days. Why is that?”
“You’re old, pop.”
If he wasn’t someone with impressive diplomas in MBBS, FRACGP and FACRRM ~ whatever they mean ~ hanging on the wall above him, I’d have thumped this smartly dressed middle-aged medico.
But he has always been on target about my health problems and his remedies, so why shouldn’t I believe him?
“Now surprise me with something new, pop.”
“No thanks, doc. See you later.”
I was glad the Federal Government Budget’s proposed $7 co-payment to my consultation did not apply to 80-year-old old geezers or I would’ve been out of pocket for nuttin’.
But frankly, I needed the reality-check. Seniors often forget that the good things they enjoy in ageing to a ripe old number have a price to pay. No pain, no gain.
Sleep doesn’t come easy at bedtime these days, but I tend to doze off peacefully during the day. My hands and fingers aren’t so nimble now, but I enjoy making music on the piano and guitar more.
I walk slower and my gait is shorter, but I have become more conscious about the scenery and can actually smell the roses.
I wake up before the sun comes up without the aid of an alarm clock, content enough to discover that I have been “gifted” one more day on earth,
I enjoy my moments with grandchildren because it’s all quality time: jibbering like a child again and playing funny games with no rules until they go back home to rattle their parents till bedtime.
What’s more, I find more time to talk Him, to thank him many times during the day for allowing me all this time to share in the pains and laughter along my journey.
So when I heave for breath and swear at constipation, I can now find comfort with the thought that, yes, I have a good excuse: I’m old and loving it.