"Help me, I think I'm falling..."

Well, I fell down yesterday.

I’d like to tell you that it was a unique experience with no duplicate in recent memory.

That would be a lie.

While not frequent, it is one of those inevitable occurrences of old(er) age that we are reminded of during our Medicare physical each year.

“When was the last time your fell?”

I’d love to lighten it up with a “twice today, so far” or “I’ve really lost track,” but my physician doesn’t have what you’d call a razor-sharp sense of humor.

I’d like to tell him that most of my recent exercise has been getting up from these falls, so I consider them part of a healthy living program.

My program also includes avoiding automatic refill or home delivery of prescriptions. Keeping track of pills and my frequent trips to Walgreens are part of my job these days. They tell you to stay active, and don’t exclude frequent trips to the pill mill.

I am on a first name basis with my pharmacist and all the nice people at the store. Not since I was a kid in Catonsville being chased out of the drugstore by Dr. Moss have I had such a personal relationship with a pharmacy.

American pharmacies have become the “One Stop Keep Me Alive Shop” with vaccines, health reminders, over-the-counter remedies, pills, and nice people.

Also, while plantar fasciitis, psoriasis, arthritis, high blood pressure, arterial sclerosis, and a low platelet count are inconvenient, they give me something to share with my old friends.

Sit back and just listen to our post-pandemic conversations these days. If we aren’t talking about book club selections or our favorite streamed TV series, we are discussing our many ailments. If you don’t have something to share, either jealousy or suspicion of vanity will get you voted off the island.

[Well, recently we have one other parlor game: who do we think voted for Trump, what did their parents do to them to cause this, and how many months into the circus will it take for them to discover the error of their ways. But this blog is not about politics, so back to the show.]

My grandmother had one sister, my Aunt Mary who I have written about before. She lived past her 100th birthday and, well into her 90’s, cooked breakfast for the ranch hands on my cousin’s cattle spread near Minot ND. She had a Victorian grace about her and would offer up occasional pearls of wisdom that I fondly remember.

One day she said to me, “John, old age is a funny thing. Others observe that you’ve gotten there long before you realize it yourself.”

While the definition of old age has shifted due to the influence of the baby boomers, I have embraced these years with pride and a never-ending search for advantages. There’s senior coffee at McDonalds, discount day at Harris Teeter grocery stores, free bus rides on Raleigh transit, and senior rates at museums, historic sites, and hotels all over the world. If you stay home, you are losing money every day.

As for “senior fashion” I do try to avoid frumpy (to play an old word) clothes but realize the danger of squeezing into cutting edge “ready to wear” styles. The cut of some men’s suits these days are designed for guys who have. never met a carbohydrate. You’ll see some older gents try to fit into them, but their jacket button looks like a cocked firearm ready to go off at any moment.

Younger accessories like shoes are something we can get away with but even there, care must be taken. I recently went to dinner wearing white on white Nike’s with a nice pair of jeans. My companions' minds hearkened back to what we did to guys at school whose sneakers were too white. I wasn’t beaten up physically, but arrows were aimed at my self image. They harmlessly bounced off due to a lifetime of combat in this arena and confidence that I looked cool. If I didn’t, my wife and my daughters would immediately let me know.

The size and demographics of my generation have encouraged the development of scores of “senior living” facilities in the southern climes of the United States. We are aging together and many of us can afford the price tag of the “group home meets country club” model surrounding us in Raleigh. Some friends have already taken the plunge, and most have either put down a deposit or are contemplating getting on a list.

I joked that when I moved into this house that my next move was going to be the “one box” variety with six movers in black suits. But the alure of no lawn or property maintenance, the amenities of high-rise apartment living, and friends right down the hall gets stronger every year.

I had a recent conversation with my cousin that I have laughed about several times since. We were talking about the $9,000 per month tab for one of the senior living facilities close to our home. He commented that “for that money you could stay right where you are and be awakened every morning by bagpipes and a boys' choir.” And despite the new guy in the White House, the pressure for more and more Medicare-based in-home healthcare options will be intense in the years to come. There is one thing that we seniors like to do, and that’s vote.

So, it’s time to carefully get up from my desk, stand until blood equilibrium returns to both my head and legs, gingerly push back my chair, and walk to the bathroom at an even pace. I have not planned to fall down today. I have things to do, and it would be inconvenient.

Oh, and by the way tech fans, my Apple Watch did ask whether I had fallen yesterday and immediately offered to call 911. It does offer some comfort to those of us not ready for a medic alert button. (You know, the “I’ve fallen, and I can’t get up” lady). We can wear a fashionable device and while others are closing their f’ing rings, we can just concentrate on staying vertical.

Now watch your step.