Got about 20 minutes to write so I sit down with an idea and see someone has spammed a post I wrote in September of 2024.
Let myself roll down the rabbit hole and scan You Won’t Like My Silence and laugh because so much has changed and so much is the same.
Fifty-seven years includes a host of life experience and I can see maturity alongside of youthful stupidity.
Some of that youthful stupidity is more recent than I’d like but I have learned from most of my mistakes and gathered the wisdom into something useful.
The kid in the picture below is familiar and even those the camera caught him with his eyes shut he saw more than he realized and still does.
I remember looking at my father back then and thinking about how old he was never thinking that 39 years later I’d realize I am a chunk of years older than Dad was then.
Those 13 years make a difference because 13 years ago I wouldn’t have thought about Dad strength versus functional.
Had a couple of things happen between my early forties and the current time that I let impact me physically more than I should have.
Didn’t think about how sitting at a desk would cause my hips to get tight and how important flexibility would become to me.
I can see the cuts in my stomach when I flex. They don’t look like they did back then when I didn’t have to try to display them.
But I see them and know if I focused hard enough on diet I could bring them back. But I am more focused on sanity than vanity.
I care about dropping some pounds not to look good but to feel good. I can tell by feel whether I need to adjust my diet, don’t have to put on pants to know.
The bionic arm debacle caused a hiccup and I lost some progress but I can’t beat myself up on that and so I focus on getting back on track.
It is why I have reached out to a few trainers to see what they offer.
Thus far I haven’t found one who has sold me on being able to help. I know where I am focused and what my intent is.
The young guys in the gym talk about dad strength and I smile. I have that in spades. It is genetic. I don’t have to work very hard to put muscle on.
What I want is functional. I want to balance on one leg and feel confident. I want to balance on one leg with my eyes closed and know I can put a sock on.
I want to be able to squat comfortably so I can use a squat toilet without concern.
P.S. I have no interest in actually using one, I just want to know I can without needing to hold onto anything.
If I can do that I am doing well.
It is about making sure I am physically able to take care of myself, to get on the floor and up again when I am in my eighties.
It is not an issue now. I can walk stairs, carry luggage through airports, get up and down from wherever.
But life has taught me that things can change. That episode in October was emasculating and humiliating in many ways.
But none of that has to define me or stay anything more than a memory of something I once experienced.
What Comes Next
I think about that often, what is the plan for this next part of life. I think about the truth of Graham’s quote and how much has happened that I couldn’t have planned for or anticipated.
I am in a place where uncertainty doesn’t bother me as much as it once did. I can’t say exactly what will or won’t happen in some areas.
All I can do is prepare myself for a variety of situations and know I’ll do my best in the situations as they come.
That’s part of the impact of October, the memory of lying on a gurney and having to use a bedpan.
If you really know me you’ll know I considered fighting hospital staff to get to the bathroom. You’ll know I would have thrown myself off of the damn thing and dragged myself.
I didn’t do it not because I was scared or drugged but because I didn’t have enough fight in me. I was exhausted and running on fumes. I was working on gathering my strength so I could figure out my next step.
By the time they took me to my room I had received one of the bags of blood out of the two they gave me and had managed to grab a few winks.
Once I got there I insisted on walking to the bathroom by myself. I made everyone stay outside while I stood to urinate and then asked for a chair so they could wheel me back to bed.
If those metal handles hadn’t been there I would have collapsed because my legs were shot, it was almost all arm strength and force of will that kept me up.
So when new friends find me and say they think Hitler missed a few or use other pieces of colorful language I roll my eyes.
“You dumb motherfucker, you think that is going to make a difference. The Nazis marched my great great grandmother and aunt to the edge of town. They made them dig their graves and then they shot them.
The Romans, Babylonians and Pharaoh all had their moments too and they are all gone. We’ll beat you too, not a question of if but when.”
All of that rolls through my head, the past and the present.
Might seem like a strange jump to go from the hospital to that but it is how my mind works. Been evacuated from a forest fire, been through multiple earthquakes and buried dear friends.
I thought I heard my dog today. We said goodbye in November. I wonder if he has met those who proceeded him and if somewhere they are running together.
My son says when the paramedics came for me he roused himself and took a body that was well on its way to failure to a place it couldn’t occupy.
For a few minutes he raged at the door, barking, scratching and trying to claw his way to me. Twenty three pounds of fury was determined to protect me.
I think he has already met the dog that will come after and has told him/her about the family. I think they are on their way, but it might be a minute before we find each other.
Life isn’t always linear, sometimes we zig zag our way through it.
I have got my power.
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