Getting Older

If you're part of the 'Baby Boomer' generation like I am, I know you already know this but I'm going to say it anyway:

Getting older sucks.

However, it sure beats the alternative, doesn't it? Mind you, I'm not complaining, because there are many folks I grew up with or went through school with who aren't on this earth any longer. I've been blessed this far along in life much more than I deserve; I won't bore you with the details so you'll just have to take my word for the fact that God definitely has a plan.

Frustration is becoming a semi-daily occurrence, though; not being able to do some of the things I could even a year ago is aggravating, to say the least. Arthritic thumbs are starting to limit my ability to use my hands when gripping things like a shovel or hand trowel, activities in much use when I'm out metal detecting, the 'other woman' in my life. The left thumb affliction is thanks to a fractured metacarpal, incurred while rolling around on the sidewalk in front of the old Jimmy's Lounge with a drunk 200-pound Amazonian woman I was trying to handcuff nearly three decades ago. I guess the right thumb, not wanting the left to feel alone, decided to join the party about ten years ago.

You haven't felt pain until you've had steroid injections in both thumbs. Doc Dawson did them for me...one at a time. Before the first injection he told me it would be painful; he also asked me not to hit him. It was and I didn't.

I haven't had any since...by choice.

The reading glasses came along seemingly overnight. One day, a decade ago, I had no problem reading reports on a computer screen while at Lexington PD; the next day I was squinting to see the words. A trip to the eye doc revealed I was becoming far-sighted. Wonderful. Now, when I drive at night, I have to wear them to see clearly.

I have a distinct feeling it only gets worse from here. That's OK, though.

Like I said, it sure beats the alternative.