I turned 60 this spring.
My back aches most of the time. My muscles are all flabby. My boobs and my belly button end up in the same place when I sit down.
I don’t hear as well as I used to either. I’ve noticed that I have to mute the TV if Paul talks to me, or else I think he said “Spaghetti in the laundry” when he actually said “I’ll get the laundry.”
It’s sad, really.
And now my eye sight seems to be going, too.
I know that not only because I wear bifocals, but because when I look at my kids, I don’t see them all that clearly.
For example, this is pretty much what they look like now:
But when I look at them, I actually see this:
Matt had some surgery this past week. The poor guy broke his ankle really badly, and had to have three bones repaired with screws and a metal plate. He was willing to let me drive him to and from the hospital, and I was in the room with him as they put in the IV and moved his leg around. I saw him turn white and break out in a cold sweat from the pain.
I heard the nurse ask, “Are you OK, sir?” and I heard a man’s voice say, “Yup.”
I’m sure that the medical staff thought that they were working on a 25 year old 6’3″ man with a full beard. But you know who I saw in that hospital bed? I saw him:
My eyes are definitely going.
But at least my memory is fine.