Losing the Fight with My Aging Body

I know I’m getting old when I injure myself sleeping.

I went to bed healthy and woke up with an aching shoulder. How? I didn’t fall out of bed. I didn’t hit it on anything. Did someone sneak into my room at night and punch me in the shoulder?

No. I hurt it because I “slept on it wrong.” That’s one of a growing list of health issues I face as an old man. I can now injure myself while sleeping.

Wait, there’s more.

I  hurt my lower back a few weeks ago, not from falling or lifting something heavy or bending over quickly.

I hurt it while sneezing. I “sneezed on it wrong.”

WTF? My body’s involuntary reflexes are harming me. Parts of my body are constantly inflamed, and I don’t know why or what inflammation is. 

I decided my body and I needed to have a sit-down discussion. It went as follows:

ME: Why are you making it so hard for me to enjoy my senior years?

BODY: It’s not me. It’s you. You don’t act your age. I can’t do the things I did when you were young and stupid, but you keep right on doing them and injuring me. I’m tired, old, and worn out, but you’re still stupid. 

ME: I thought I was helping you stay healthy and fit by exercising and staying active.

BODY: Not when you injure me while trying to stay healthy. Duh. I’m not as strong, fast, pliable and forgiving as I was when you were a kid. It takes me twice as long to heal as it did when I was young. You gotta slow down, act your age and get more rest. 

ME: I try to get more rest, but you won’t let me get a good night’s sleep. I have trouble falling asleep, and I can’t get up in the morning, but you wake me up at 3:15 every morning, and when I try to fall back asleep, you make me remember everything I forgot to do. It doesn’t make sense.

BRAIN: I’d like to jump in here if you don’t mind. Jim, you don’t sleep well because of all the stupid stuff you did during the day. That gets stored in my memory banks and stresses me out. So, when you get to bed, I open those memory bytes and stream all that stupid stuff into your head so you can lay there and deal with it. I gotta get my rest, too. It clears my mind and lets me get a good night’s rest.

ME: So, instead of helping me and helping you stay healthy, are you fighting me?

BRAIN: “You got it, Sherlock. I’ve been talking with all your other organs, and we’re all sick and tired of the way you treat us. Your liver hasn’t spoken to you since that bachelor party several years ago when you drank a pitcher of beer through a funnel and tube and then challenged everyone, including the stripper, to a tequila shots contest. You’re lucky your liver hasn’t packed up and left.

ME: That’s not true; my liver still loves me, don’t you, liver?

LIVER: (silence)

BODY: See what I mean? 

ME: He’s just being stubborn. I have great respect for my body, and I treat it well.

BODY: “Respect my azz! You can stick that ‘respect’ where the sun doesn’t shine.”

RECTUM: “Hey, don’t get me involved in this.”

SPINE: “What about me! You act like I’m a friggin’ forklift. Remember the time you told your friends that you could lift the front of a Volkswagen Beetle? You’re lucky your buddy jumped in the car and drove off before you ruptured several discs and cracked a vertebra.

BODY: You don’t respect any of us. You treat your stomach like a landfill with all the garbage you feed it. You drink so much coffee you can hear colors, but you can’t hear the TV because the loud music on your earpods has smashed your eardrums. Your feet look worse than Bigfoot’s, thanks to wearing cheap sneakers, and you have more corns than an Iowa farm field.  

ME: You poor baby. You’re such a wuss. Suck it up and man up. Grow some cajónes, and stop whining.

CAJỎNES: Psssst! We’re right here, pal. And you don’t want to anger us cuz we’re BFFs with Mr. Prostate. Do you think he’s enlarged now? Mess with us, boys, and you’ll need to order some XXX-large BVDs from Amazon, and you will be getting up to pee every 10 minutes.

BODY: You can’t win this fight, Jim. We can do many things to get you to behave, from injuries to forgetting where you left your phone, parked your car, or why you got up and walked upstairs. You’ll lose more hair on your head, but it will sprout out of your ears and nose like bamboo. Keep treating me like a punching bag, and I’ll hit back with a one-two-three combo that will make your gums bleed, your knees creak, and your neck stiff.

ME: You’re right. I want to think I’m winning this ridiculous arm-wrestling match with you, but every time I stand up too fast or open a pickle jar, my knees and wrists remind me who’s winning.

So, if you’ll let me sneeze without pulling a muscle, I’ll agree to start acting my age and stop doing stupid stunts that hurt you.

Get more Jim Pfiffer humor on his Facebook page and his “Full of Wit” blog, https://fullofwitblog.wordpress.com/. To learn more about Filomena Jack, see her artwork and contact her, go to www.FilomenaJackStudio.com.