Prescription Grade

Most of my articles used humorous family tales to connect with my readers when I first started writing. I missed the lighter side and thought it was time to put the “fun-sucker” in time-out and bring out some humor again. My current senior state of being is an excellent place to begin.

The term twilight years has always baffled me. I do not know who falls in that category because I haven’t bothered to look it up. Who cares anyway? There are already far too many labels in the world for my liking.  I have decided to continue living in the fantasy that my body is as young as my mind thinks it is. If I can just stay off the playgrounds, away from mirrors, bicycles, and ice rinks, I’ll be in good shape and safely “ICU-free in 2021.” Granted, my mind is not as sharp as it used to be. Or at least I don’t think it is.

All life on the planet ages, but seems especially challenging for homo sapiens. Ok, I am aware that it isn’t a walk in the park for the aging water buffalo or zebra who end up as easy pickings for a hungry lion pride. As humans made in the image and likeness of God, we have intellect and will which helps us over-process the effects, concerns, and deficiencies at a higher level. “Yikes, who is that old lady looking at me in the mirror!” Random aches and pains come without warning and remind us that we are only mortal and meant for more than this earthly abode. Having to recall specific details, names, or events can be an additional, unwanted frustration.

Kid: “Mom, remember that place we went, and you bought that rolling pin? Whatever happened to the shirt I was wearing?”

Me: “Did I buy a rolling pin? Were you even born yet? I need more details.”

Kid: “Come on, really? It was my favorite shirt. Remember you bought that candy from Rocky Mountain Chocolates?”

Me: (instant clarity) “Oh yes, the orange jelly enrobed in dark chocolate. That was delicious. THAT shirt? I threw that away ages ago.”

I had found over the years that when the event in question involved me stuffing something delicious in my mouth, I had better memory recall. Popular Chocolate Science Weekly did a whole segment on the connection between food intake and memory association. Thankfully, I still have the wherewithal to whip up emergency brownies and always carry them in my purse. You never know what essential memories I’ll need to archive. This critical memory-saving practice keeps a smile on my face and the innertube firmly inflated in my middle.

If I wanted to make excuses for my lapsed memory, I could blame my far too many head injuries for turning my brain to mush. That is a well-documented, valid defense. My adult kids find it hilarious when I am not making lightning-fast decisions, to audibly whisper to each other and wink, “it’s the accident.” Little farts!

Since I have opened Pandora’s box, eliciting excuses connected to my dubious memory, hearing with only one ear has a considerable impact. It boggles my mind how many people automatically go to my non-functioning left ear to share a trifle with me. One might as well share their confession in that ear, ’cause it hears nada. Mix in a bit of background music at a restaurant, forty other happy diners, and I basically get zip. I, however, just nod and smile trying to keep up. So what I miss eighty percent of what was said, I cannot be held accountable for remembering information I never heard in the first place.

There, I feel better already. Maybe it isn’t an aging thing after all and just all my other abnormalities. I have an excuse to fit every scenario except the recent one where I used the prescription powdered stuff from my recent colonoscopy. Why you ask ? Waste not, want not! Apparently, it packs a serious punch even in tiny doses. Good thing I am still fairly quick on my feet. I am happy to report I survived the prep for my roto rooter job. You would think by now there would be a pill or less invasive technology like something out of Star Trek. I hardly can handle the appalling beverage required to do the prep. I have polled many who feel the same way. Not my husband, he just drinks it right down and thinks it “tastes just fine.” REALLY? He could possibly be the only person on the planet who feels that way. I shall spare the faint-hearted and rookies’ further details and simply state that hell might just be an eternal colonoscopy prep.

Thank goodness heaven is for real, and none of that business is necessary. Stay on the straight and narrow- it’s worth it now for the prize that awaits us.




Published by pouredmyselfoutingift

Catholic, wife, mother, and grandmother. Ministering to those preparing for marriage and struggling within them. Cooker, baker, and dessert maker. Passionate, giving, action-orientated, dedicated to marriage and family and sharing the Good News.

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