Age-Old Ritual

Age-Old Ritual

Buckle My Shoe

One, two buckle my shoe

That is what I used to do.

Three, four not so anymore.

Five, six the Velcro sticks.

When Things Fall

I hate when things fall on the floor,

It is hard to get them anymore.

It didn't used to be any trouble at all,

But then I didn't use to be this tall.

Short Poems by my sister, T.T.

Ah! Yes! The Age-Old Ritual. Or should I be more realistic and call it what it is? The Old-Age Ritual.

ADLs (Activities of Daily Living) essential tasks like bathing, dressing, eating, and toileting necessary for maintaining independence and quality of life are increasingly taking up more and more quantity of life infringing on the few remaining minutes I may have available for more exciting or fun things to do.

What years ago may have been my beauty routine has become my balancing routine. Beauty was fleeting. Routine obviously failed big time. Now everything becomes a balancing act in order to become presentable for the day; arising out of bed; remembering to take off the annoying C-Pap strap before it strangles me; testing my unreliable knees to see if they want to co-operate and support me today or should I take the cane along; making it to the toilet before - well, we don't want to go there; stripping off night gown; gingerly entering bathtub holding onto grab bars; easing onto tub chair; shampooing and scrubbing all the folds and creases in the folds especially the undercarriage region; rinsing then toweling; carefully placing one foot then the other on the mat; spreading towel on seat and settling down upon it.

Then reaching for essentials and applying; first comb through wet hair; anoint with any extra products to keep the frizz at bay; smear big Secret under the arms; lotion legs and arms to keep them smooth and supple; squeeze out the the proper dose of Voltaren on each knee supposedly to calm the arthritis; trim the toenails I can reach; dab some Vicks on the big toe nails to tackle the fungi growing there.

Next stand at sink (must be quick about this because can't stand long) floss and brush remaining teeth; substitute with dentures the missing ones (heard once you should brush only the teeth you want to keep – more failed beauty advice); a splash and gargle of mouth wash; control stray face hairs with tweezers; scrub exfoliate on face following with toner and wrinkle cream (must compliment winkle cream – it really does give me winkles); blot on some lipstick, a dot of color on eyelids and a swipe of the mascara; put in hearing aids, add glasses and I'm good to go find some clothes to don.

Anything on the agenda today? Really makes a difference into how much effort I need to devote to this monumental task. Summertime at home needs undies, shorts and a tee. Going out in public needs bra (still haven't found a comfortable one), long slacks and shoes, maybe socks, possibly a jacket or sweater. I used to be proud of the fact I could get from floor to door in thirty minutes in the morning. Already have more than an hour invested and that's before I take pills or eat anything.

Filling my pill keeper is a ritual all to itself. I still like to think of myself as healthy. Yet my doctor keeps adding to the list of pills she prescribes. I made the mistake of asking her if I could take fewer or do away with ones I consider long term not beneficial. She only wants to switch those to ones with more side effects. I happen to think a lot of my current problems stem from my knees not functioning, therefore I quit walking or moving much at all. Have tried cortisone and gel injections for them but it hasn't helped in the least. Next step is knee replacements. So maybe this winter? Not looking forward to that prospect at all. To think once upon a time I could do five back flips in a row and a host of other physical feats.

When I turned sixty-five I thought it was ridiculous when I had to make an extra doctor visit after having one only two weeks before that birthday to do a senior assessment. Mostly I was asked to stand up and walk across the room then answer questions about the number of throw rugs I had scattered about my home. She couldn't do that two weeks before because I was not sixty-five yet! I passed with ease then. Now maybe I wouldn't so easily. I blew out both knees slow dancing at my grandson's wedding over three years ago. Doctor said no cartilage left. It took seventy years of wear and tear, not only the one night of fun.

These old-age rituals are not much fun but here is another witticism from my sister to sum up:

Everyday Is Yesterday—Except Tomorrow

A new day is dawning

As I am still yawning,

Spreading out in front of me

With boundless possibilities:

As the bright rays of hope are streaming forth

I'm glad to be alive on this earth

And want to accomplish something of worth--

So here I sit to contemplate

Just how full is my plate?

First come all the ADL's I must do,

Then the things I should or could do,

That can-do attitude

Still feeling strong and good.

Next, the things I do for you--

Wait! Those are all the same things I did yesterday!

And the bright rays of day

Are so quickly fading away--

Twenty-four hours, no more, no less

Sounds like a lot—but it's not.

Though this morning it seemed endless;

Too many unplanned interruptions and distractions,

Too much dawdling and times to rest--

I thought I was trying my best--

Now where did I put that to-do list?

Victims of another busy day

All of my wants-to-dos again lay

In the vast graveyard

Of the bleached bones of yesterdays.

I'm sad and sorry but won't wallow in my sorrow

Because there's always another whole new day tomorrow.

And when comes the day without warning

There is no bright and hope-filled dawning

I won't have to do any of these anymore--

No more fears, tears or worry

Glory, glory—end of story!

P.S. Writing this took half my day!

That, friends, is irony!