Aches and pains and Mortality, my new roomie….

My body is falling apart.

                  That’s not a lament or a whine. It’s a fact.

                  It’s been going on for a while but usually an ache or a pain was a one-off. You know, go get it fixed, do some kind of rehab, and then get on with life.

                  That’s not the case anymore. Now I am dealing with a bum knee, some pain in the right hip that I have had replaced twice and I have a spinal issue in my lower back that could require surgery. Oh, sleep apnea and just generally being too damn fat. That last one I could control. But I haven’t.

                  It’s inevitable, I guess. I turn 78 next month. Nothing lasts forever, including bodies.

                  I’m limping around, dealing with the healthcare system, which is the furthest thing from fun you can get. The spine doc said he wanted me to get a pain injection to see if that would put off surgery.  I called the place he wanted me to go to and they gave me an appointment – eight weeks out. I complained to a nurse who told me I was lucky to get in that quickly. In other words, suck it up, Bubba.

                  I saw my orthopedic doc about the hip and knee this week and told him that story, adding I was only sleeping about four or five hours a night because of the pain. He was appalled. He gave me an Rx for a pain medicine. I said I didn’t want any pain meds and he said “if you are only sleeping four or five hours a night you are not going in a good direction. You need help.” So, I agreed. It’s only for a few weeks.

                  I’m whining about aches and pains, but I think I might be doing that to put off thinking about something else. Mortality. I am moving toward the finish line. I never have been worried about dying. I’ve long accepted that I’m no different than anyone else, or a horse, dog or bird. All life has a beginning, middle and end. The beginning and for the most part the end are not really under our control. The middle is, or may be, but I am past that point.

                  This week I redid my will, did some other planning on the assumption I will die before my wife, who is in a memory care unit but otherwise seems fit. It hasn’t been felt morbid in the least. It’s just been another chore and it felt good to do it. It felt responsible. Adult. 

                  But, between that and the aches and pains, mortality has moved in with me. No use asking how it got here. It’s my new roommate. We just need to figure out how we are going to get along until he/she/it decide to evict me.

                  Rich Heiland is a retired journalist and semi-retired consultant, trainer and public speaker. During his journalism career he was a reporter, editor, publisher, college instructor, part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team and a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year honoree. He also writes the intodementia.com blog about his wife’s dementia and their experiences. He lives in West Chester, PA and can be reached at [email protected].