A Word In Edgewise: So, You’re Aiming for Octogenarian?

A lot of space these days, hard copy and digital, is devoted to living longer, healthier, certainly happier, through a vast array of solutions from dietary plans to exercises physical and/or spiritual, of varied rigor — whatever the promoter is peddling. None of these plans considers that each one of us, at certain stages, must enter terrae incognitae as varied and unforgiving as those trodden by Merriwether Lewis and William Clark or Robert Falcon Scott.

All human life is finite, but from infancy to senescence, one needs appropriate preparation — parental, professorial or solo — to maneuver each new unforeseen turn as deftly as P.I. Jim Rockford executes on two wheels in his Pontiac Firebird, especially nearing the final flag.

If you’re committed to the long haul and a livable existence, it’s best to have a few personal skills as you approach that ninth decade. Not everyone will have the foresight (or the blind luck) to have acquired these skills, but every lesson learned can surface in times of need.

Chance led me to an LPN certification in the Deep South, far from the purlieus of my comic-book-store-owner days. Working shifts as a nursing aide while attending nursing school offered opportunities surprising to a childless only child who’d never changed a single diaper.

A few years walking rounds in a nursing home, dispensing meds, giving injections, changing diapers on the incontinent and unconscious, and dodging blows from patients no longer “there,” indelibly bound my solitary existence into others’ lives and suffering.

Further along, I discovered that many skills once required to do unto others, I was able — even required — to do unto myself. I was told, after a hospital procedure, “You can remain in hospital post-op and have those incisions drained and measured for another $10K (I had no insurance), or leave and a friend might help you back home?”

“My friends? Who squeal and cover their eyes at icky things on-screen? I did that to patients; I’ll do it to myself.”

It can be any special skills; mechanical, automotive, electrical, cooking/preserving, Texas hold ’em dealing, driving the getaway car — specialties lying doggo for years, may stand you in good stead once you’re old-old. Clogged drain? Luckily, you still have your little sink plunger and voilà! A possible $150/hour fee dodged.

Statistically, you’ve probably parented. Yes? You already have a hands-on acquaintance with your future, senescent self. If you’ve not procreated, it will be a rude awakening to realize you’ve become your own toddler. Yes, now you’re cleaning up that, and that and even that. The very things you gloated over avoiding are now your very own oopsies.

Now “adult,” you’re taller, more regal. You don’t just plop down on the floor, gurgling and giggling, pulling yourself up by a table leg and continuing on. Instead, there’s a heavy “thud,” and there you are, alone in your condo, nothing within reach to give you purchase; and the angle of that knee joint isn’t right. And it hurts…

Toddlers just … toddle. There’s no particular focus. Unless they spy food or a puppy, they just enjoy the motion. The elderly usually have a goal, and while some may lose track of why they’ve entered a room, I’ve determined many of us aren’t aimless or confused, but waiting for instructions.

Your mind is a keen Magellan; before you’ve levered up out of your recliner, synapses are mapping to the millimeter the most viable course through dangerous waters to rock-bound ports, allowing you to offload in the loo, secure vittles for the galley, gather the post and dock again at the recliner. Now, blankie, pillow and nap.

I frequently receive ads that ask beguilingly, “Can you retire comfortably on $2,000,00 a year?” My “Try me” didn’t “ping.” However, if your response, Dear Reader, is, “No problem!” then ignore all my advice above. Text me directly. Immediately. Let’s chat. I’ve got some ideas … and a lovely bridge.