The hell you say.
There was a t-shirt that said “Getting Old Isn’t For Wimps” with a picture of a wrinkled Rosie the Riveter, sleeve rolled up still sporting the muscle. It was on Facebook, and you know how it goes, if you don’t save it or share it it could disappear. If I ever find it again I’m buying one, and I’m not a t-shirt person as a rule, but let me tell you…
This week I worked ten hour shifts, something I haven’t done since medical and that was 20 years ago. Am I adding right, I quit for good in 1997, so 2007, 2017, yup… how is it possible, still in those days it was 12 hour shifts 7pm to 7am. Can’t say I’ve missed them. Two of the kids in my classroom who happen to be infants come in very early and I was accommodating parents and the one staff member who opens the center. My schedule will be more organized this coming week, but I have to say my heart may have been in the right place but my body is still saying ouch.
Last night I left work with whatever wind it was, beyond second, nonetheless a spring in my step, caught the bus to a stop close to where I thought I’d treat myself to dinner, then stop at the grocery store for a few things and head across the highway and home. It was all in the same shopping area. I was fairly lucid ordering, paying with tip, then began winding down as I ate. When I left I felt the first signs of honest wear on my body, but chin up I hiked down the strip to the grocery store where I bought stuff weighing more than I wanted to carry. After checkout getting ready to exit the store, one of the assistant managers told me to feel free to push the cart to the end of the lot. Being a regular he knew I walked. After I’d parked the cart and had bags slung I really felt it. It’s been a while since I’ve prayed but I hoped I’d have strength enough to make it up the incline and across the way. My body asked ‘can we rest now’? “Not yet, almost there.”
What a relief walking through the front door, dropping totes on the floor! (No worries, no eggs!) There wasn’t a place on me that didn’t ache from wear.
Typing this now I still have sand in my eyes. Remember that expression? It’s real. I did push it a little this morning by sneaking back across the street before it was light to pick up the last few things that gratefully weighed less than what was carted home the evening before. Getting organized in the store I thought my legs might buckle, my eyes wanted to close and open up later. Guess I’ll be rethinking how to bounce back. My retirement officially begins Wednesday, December 6th. I will be there at 7 but leave at 1. I have social security, no pension so work I must, nonetheless these hours will be like vacationing at Club Med.
My 83 year old mom’d told me she has big ideas and starts her day like she always did years ago, but realizes like it or not she has to rest, she gets tired and can’t do it the way she used to.
I get it. Definitely not for wimps.