The Incomplete Cynic

I will be 94 in February, 2012; I can’t walk more than one block without running out of air, and I take lots of pain killers to ease arthritical pain. When I look in the mirror in the morning, I see an old face, but one with a vibrant look of curiosity in the eyes. With the help of a caregiver, I take a hot shower every morning and gratefully accept my caregiver’s help in putting on my clothes, especially my stretch stockings. I do some exercises recommended by my physical therapist.

Whenever the pain lets up, we go to the local Y and I walk in the water, use an underwater bicycle and soak in the spa. That’s the physical routine. Since I’m a writer, and a retired teacher, I’ve signed up for two play writing groups and I go to plays and concerts. I discuss politics vigorously with other activist friends. Once in a while I cook for friends, for my son and his wife. My grandchildren are off doing their thing; I like my life!

Why does Elizabeth fear old age? Why does anyone? There is a strange conflation in our American society between growing old and becoming infirm.