MIRACLE MILE

 There is a running joke about the "miracle flights" where passengers in wheel chairs line up at the boarding gate in airports. The airline staff push them down the jetway to the plane where they are seated as close to the front of the plane as possible.   When the plane arrives at its destination all the wheel chair passengers are suddenly cured of their disability. They jump up and race up the jetway seemingly in perfect health.  It's a MIRACLE !!!!!!

I am living with a man who has daily "miracles" when it suits him. I, on the other hand,  will be confined to a wheel chair for the rest of my life from all the "jumping up and getting" required when The Man suddenly can NOT do anything for himself.   I guess I should be used to it.  After three kids and a husband who tried to get mom to do EVERYTHING for them this is not a new thing.  I never had trouble telling the kids to "do it yourself" or "get it yourself" but for some reason it is harder for me with a man.  Probably because they get so pissy and go into their "POOR ME!"  mood that will last for days. 

Right now, as I write this, The Man is STANDING in the living room.  I have not seen him stand upright since I got here in October.  He is always sitting and if he does stand he is all hunched over as he               S L O W L Y pushes his walker to the bathroom or bedroom.  At night I make at least ten trips out to the kitchen to get things he has "forgotten" or needs.  This morning I was asked to get him a protein drink from the fridge just three seconds after he walked right past the fridge. This sort of thing happens all the time.   

My favorite miracle happened two nights ago as we were getting ready for sleep.  It was just after midnight and I was DONE !  I had made my six thousand trips out to the kitchen for The Man and I was ready to sleep.  Before I got into the bed I asked if there was ANYTHING else he needed. I got a "no thank you" and stupidly believed him.  I crawled into bed, turned off my light, took off my glasses, took out my hearing aids, put on my c-pap mask and was just ready to relax when I heard a voice.  I was hoping it was God telling me I did good today and I should have a nice nights sleep but alas . . .   God does not speak to me from behind a bi-pap mask.  I knew it was The Man but since I  no longer have my hearing aids in and The Man is wearing a plastic mask over his mouth and nose,  I CAN NOT make out a single thing he is saying.   I take off my. mask, put in my hearing aids, turn on the light and ask him to take off his f'ing mask and say again what he wanted.  (I should have just rolled over and ignored him.) At 12:20 in the middle of the night The Man wanted to know if I had a NAIL FILE .   I was totally dumbfounded !!!!!!  A nail file ?????????????   It seems that the previous night he had slept with his false teeth in and he had woken up with the partial plate on the bottom snapped in two. He had just had a "spare" plate made two. months ago but had not yet gotten around to wearing it to break it in.  Now his old plate is broken so he wears the new plate ALL day. By midnight his mouth is sore so  (YOU BETTER SIT DOWN NOW) . . . that he wants a nail file to file down one of the teeth on the plate that is rubbing on his gums.  Need I remind you it IS AFTER MIDNIGHT !!!!     I calmly tell him I do not have a nail file so he says, "I THINK THERE IS ONE IN THE KITCHEN OR IN THE GARAGE "   The garage is about 50 feet from the house, It is after midnight, there is 4 feet of snow on the ground and the temperature is MINUS THREE degrees !!!! It really is a wonder I did not grab one of his rifles from behind the door where his bathrobes are and BLOW HIS FREAKING HEAD OFF !!!!      What I did do was just roll over, take out my "ears" and shut off the light.   I did not dare open my mouth for fear of what might come out.  God give me strength because there is always more. 

Every night just before we go to sleep I turn down the thermostat from "Tropical Rain Forest" to "Antartica".  I can not sleep when it is 103 degrees in the bedroom.  I figure The Man is under the covers so he won't freeze. ( I have yet to have him tell me how cold he was during the night.)  I am instructed ("asked") to turn the heat up if I get up before him in the morning.  (That NEVER happens I love to sleep in until at least 9:30.). When I do get up in the morning and walk out to the kitchen I find The Man sitting in his underwear with a cotton long sleeve shirt on to "keep him warm".  The Man owns TWO  bathrobes ! One is quilted the other is fuzzy. He NEVER wears them.  He would rather sit freezing for 2 hours until I get up so he can have me turn up the thermostat.  The reason he doesn't put on his bathrobe is because, "IT IS TOO HARD TO GET FROM BEHIND THE BEDROOM DOOR".  He is opening and walking through the door to get to the kitchen but it is too hard to grab the bathrobe as he goes by !  The reason he does not turn up the heat himself is . . .   it is too far to walk to the thermostat.   It is FIVEsteps from the kitchen door to the kitchen chair and SEVEN steps to the thermostat .  But the poor thing can not make it those extra TWO steps to crank up the heat.   

I accept all this because I know how difficult it is for him to breathe. BUT today when his grand daughter stopped by to pick up some things that were in the living room, (remember the living room? It is the room that The Man never goes into because it is too far for him to walk . . . ) Except for when something is going on out there and he NEEDS to haves nose in what ever is HAPPENING.  His grand daughter came in, chatted for a few and then headed out to the living room with a cardboard box to fill with the things that The Man wanted her to take.  She no sooner opened the living room door when The Man JUMPED up and literally raced in to follow her.  (He did use the walker). Once he was in the living room he STOOD up watching her every move and proceeded to instruct her how to load everything in the box.  Usually The Man can manage standing for about 30 seconds.  He stood there today for ELEVEN MINUTES !  I timed him!   

Another miracle !!!!!!!!!!!  

Of course he is now in bed taking a nap while he left me to give instructions to the helper who is coming later today.  I wonder if I instructed her to murder The Man would she do that?  I'LL LET YOU KNOW.. 

AVALANCHE. ! ?

 I am giving serious thought to how I can murder The Man.   I figure I would be doing him a favor since he has one foot in the grave already, all he needs is a little shove.  There have been quite a few days lately that he has told me he is tired and just can't "do this anymore".  I sympathize totally with him so murdering him would be justified.

It's been quite the roller coaster ride since I got up here in. October.  For the 5 months that we were apart, him in MI me in FL, he would call me EVERY night and tell me how much he missed me, he couldn't wait till I got there, I am so beautiful, we can get married when I come up to MI, (seriously ! ) and he just can't live without me.    Once I got here none of that has been mentioned.  I am apparently much more lovable when I am two thousand miles away.  (I can assure you that is a fact!  It just took The Man this long to figure it out.). 

Now that I am in residence on the farm I get the opportunity to cook, clean and do EVERYTHING without so much as a thank you. Of course he is incapable of helping in any way because he really is quite weak but it really would be nice to hear him offer every once in a while.  One of my big jobs is being his secretary and keeping "THE BOOK" up to date.   Long ago when I first started on this journey I suggested we get a note book and write down all the doctor visits, medications and any other medical information.  I had done this with Husband and it was a game changer. Every time we would visit a doctor they would have twenty questions about whatever and I could thumb through my color coded book and produce answers within seconds.  (I impressed the hell out of some of the doctors. Hell, I impressed myself.). It is a win win when I can look up something in THE BOOK and read exactly what was said or done when The Man is insisting that never happened.  It has come to bite him in the butt more than once. 

But today was so frustrating that I wanted to throw THE BOOK at Mr. Man.  He had a conference call this morning with a doctor.  He had no idea what doctor.  Turns out it was a new doctor from the allergy clinic in Green Bay, WI.  Having never met The Man the doctor is talking like this is a "normal" 30 year old fairly healthy male. He does not know that The Man has END STAGE COPD, and is now under the care of Hospice.  Those two little facts should change the whole treatment plan but The Man does NOT tell the doctor any of this.   The Man is on the phone going over his tale of trying to get shots to raise his bodies immune system.  Ten years ago these shots were a game changer. He stopped getting respiratory infections and ending up in the hospital every month. He was able to get the shots in Florida and in Michigan and the VA covered it all.  But something went haywire this year and since The Man came up to the farm in April he has not had a single shot.  His immune system is tanking and he thinks that getting these shots now will suddenly change the severity of his COPD (which it will not. The damage to his lungs is only going to get worse and worse until it kills him.) We have talked about this MANY MANY times and yet when the doctor called today The Man was all hyped up on this doctor finally getting the shots for him. I am sitting across the room with THE BOOK open in front of me shaking my head. 

I have promised. myself I would SHUT UP and just let The Man do his thing but all I could think was this poor dumb doctor was going to waste hours trying to set this all up and in the meanwhile The Man will have died.   

I tried to get The Man's attention to tell him to let the doctor know he was having Hospice coming in because he is in end stage COPD but he never said a word about this to the doctor.  

It was at this point that I decided to put on my boots, jacket and gloves and go outside in the blizzard with hopes I would be lost in the snow.  (I actually went out to feed the birds). As I was plowing myself through the 3 foot snow drifts I got to thinking how I could kill The Man and no one would suspect a thing. If I just went into the bedroom where The Man was napping and put a pillow over his face I could make it look like he suffocated in an avalanche.  Once I killed him I would open the bedroom window and pile a bunch of snow inside the room as if an avalanche had come roaring down and hurried The Man under 4 feet of snow.  There certainly was enough snow but there really isn't any mountain for the snow to come roaring down.  Do you think the police would believe we went to sleep with the window open and all that snow blew in and covered up his body?     I may have to work on this plan a little more.  

In the meantime I will SHUT UP and say nothing to upset The Man. Maybe I could just add some Valium to his morning coffee.  Come to think of it, maybe I need to add some Valium to MY morning coffee!

YOU NEED TO RELAX !!!!

 Why is it that the person in your life who stresses you out the most is the one always telling you to RELAX ?   

I am not one to sit down and do nothing for hours on end.  I'm not saying that I might actually enjoy being in solitary confinement for a decade or two but my normal mode is one where I am constantly moving.  I enjoy rainy days alone at home binge watching something on TV but when I do that there is always that little voice in my head telling me to go do . . .   whatever.  I have NEVER said "I'm bored" except when The Man is giving me detailed descriptions of how he washes himself off in the shower.  (Yes, he actually spent a good ten minutes the other day taking me step by step on his shower routine .  "First I turn the light on in the bathroom and then I . . . You really. do NOT want to hear the rest. ).   It drives me CRAZY when he goes through the steps of how he does something.  Meanwhile when he wants something I need to play twenty questions to figure out exactly what the hell he is talking about.  (Like when he has me searching for something in a drawer.   It goes something like, "Would you get me that thing that I put in the drawer the other day."  What thing?   What room is this drawer in?  Which dresser in the room are we talking about?  Drives me nuts !!!!  And he gets frustrated when I ask my questions, as if to say, "What is wrong with you woman?  Can't you do anything?"  I have yet to snap back with a sarcastic comment but it is getting harder to swallow the thoughts in my head.  

So now we have spent a good part of the day finding and doing things for The Man. By late afternoon all I want to do is go take a nice little nap. Problem is that The Man has been napping ALL afternoon.  Four hours at least. During that time I am catching up on stuff I want/need to do.  There is never enough time in my world. Would I love to sit and read for a few hours?  You bet !  Would I like to do a craft ? Oh my yes!  How about just sitting quietly in a corner playing on my I Pad?   Hell Yes !!  But it seldom happens. And it is getting worse as The Man's health gets worse.  

So when I have gotten up for the three hundredth time to get/do for The Man and I am getting a little PISSED he has the balls to say . . ."RELAX!"  The he proceeds to. tell me I "DO TOO MUCH".      

WHAT !!!!!!!!!!!   Who am I doing too much for ??????????????????  

Let me give you a perfect example that happened last night.  The Man washes up right after dinner so that he is settled in bed by 7 or 7:30.  At that time of the night I am just finishing cleaning up from dinner and have to still do a bunch of things that I kept meaning to do during the day.  I FINALLY get to shower and make it into the bedroom by 9:00 PM. I am no where near to climbing INTO the bed because now is when The Man decides he needs cold water.  Then he needs water in his C Pap machine. And he left the curtain open so could. I please close it?  Next he remembers that he has left his phone on the kitchen table, would I please get it for him.  By now we are heading toward 9:30 and all I want to do is crawl into bed.  I usually get one foot in the bed when he remembers he didn't turn down his oxygen concentrator. Or at least he THINKS he didn't turn it down. Would I go check it out?  OK  we finally get that settled, I climb into bed and ten minutes later he decides he would like some ice cream.  

By how you must have a pretty good idea of just what I would like to do with his ice cream. 

THE LAMP AND THE G D SPOON

 I am headed out side for some more "snow therapy" before I write this blog.  I may not come back in until  February.   Lord Lord . . . give me strength.

I don't need strength to keep from killing You Know Who but I DO need help to keep from falling on the floor while laughing hysterically.  You just can't make up this stuff.  

Let me start with THE LAMP.  The Man needs/wants a lamp by his side of the bed.  I get that . . . it is a reasonable request.  There are so many lamps in this house but they are ALL so old with frayed wires that I will not put any one of them in the bedroom for fear of it setting the house on fire.  (Although technically it would be on HIS side of the room so I could probably get out . . .  Hum?).   Oh, sorry . . . anyway ,  Several months ago while I was still in Florida The Man had one of his helper girls buy him a floor lamp. I got a detailed description of the lamp, (pictures included), along with how wonderful it was.  The BIG excitement came from the fact that the lamp had a REMOTE CONTROL !!  (This is just perfect for a guy who can't change a channel on the TV because he can't work the remote.)  I had visions of lights flashing off and on at all hours of the night.  But I was wrong. (Oh me of little faith.). I got to MI, the lamp was great, the remote made The Man happy so all was well with the world, until the lamp stopped working.  Or I should say it stopped turning off.  The only way to turn off the light was to unplug the stupid thing.  The Man was convinced it was because the battery in the remote had gone bad.  I spent a day running around trying to find this obscure size battery that is only made in China.  Finally found the battery, changed it out and guess what.  The lamp still did not work. (No surprise to me but The Man was SHOCKED !!!  Not literally.) He wanted me to go get another battery but I was one step ahead of him and had bought 2.  Still no light.  We knew it wasn't the bulb because if you plugged the lamp in it worked fine, We just couldn't turn it off.  The helper who had bought it returned the lamp and got another one just like it.  That worked for 2 days and the same thing happened.  Took that one back and got a store credit. I shopped on Amazon and the new lamp arrived yesterday.  The Man took over immediately and began to assemble the new lamp. Being a floor lamp it had 6 one foot sections of "pipe" that screwed into one another with the electric chord running through them.  The Man looked like he was playing pick up sticks. Sections of pipe were flopping all over the place, held together with the electric chord.  He finally gets to the last piece which has the receptacle where you screw in the light bulb.  One minor problem . . . all the individual sections of the pole were covered in plastic bags that could not be slid off over the top. It never occurred to "anyone" to take the plastic bags off BEFORE assembling the lamp.  There was much muttering and swearing until I got a scissor and cut off the bags.  Then there was the issue of connecting the lamp shade and screwing in the bulb.  I went into the bedroom to sort laundry.   As of today, the lamp is still standing, it has a little chain to turn it off and on, NO remote!, and it looks really good.  I'll keep you posted.

Moving on to the GD spoon, this was the final straw . . .  After "we" got the lamp together it was time for dinner.  Easy dinner of hotdogs and beans.  EVERY time I open a small can of beans a voice from across the kitchen says, "Whose going to eat all those beans?  Why do you buy such a big can?"   (I do not buy a large can of beans I buy the smallest can I can find and yet I still hear about it every single time.   No more beans for me.).  I put the small container of beans on the table and put a spoon in the container.  I took my helping and pushed it over toward the man.  Next thing I know there is more swearing at the GD spoon that is TOO BIG.  The fact that someone spilled beans all over the table had nothing to do with who was HOLDING the spoon.  The problem was THE SPOON !!!!!!!!   

Where did I put my jacket and boots ?  I need some snow therapy !!!

TOASTY IN MICHIGAN

 December 9th, 2025 and I am outside "playing" in the snow.  I think I have found a new form of therapy for people from Florida who haven't seen snow in decades.  

I honestly expected to be too warm up here this winter.  I figured if it was too cold outside I would just stay inside.  You know I am always writing about living in a hot house when The Man is in town.  Coming up to the farm for the winter I expected the thermostat to be set at 90 degrees so I would be wearing bathing suits trying to stay cool.  It has turned out to be quite the opposite.  I guess when it is you paying the heating bill the thermostat can stay set at 68. Now I am the one who is freezing.  

I have plenty of "winter" clothes up here thanks to my BFF Jeanne.  She is down in NY worrying that I am going to be too cold so she has sent me a fleece jacket, a puffy jacket, several pairs of wool socks, and a pair of warm sweat pants.  She has also given me a scarf that she knitted.   I am toasty !!!!  I already had 2 winter coats up here that are short so I bought myself a long puffy coat with a hood and a pair of knee high snow boots.  I have a super warm pair of gloves that the Navaho Indians sent me a year ago as a fund raiser.  I am covered head to toe with love.  

God sure has had his hand in my life these days.   I never expected to be spending a winter in Northern Michigan.  This was our summer retreat from the heat of Florida but God had other plans this year.  I think He knew I needed some snow therapy and The Man needed me here to help him through his journey.  The COPD is so bad these days and The Man is tired of all of it.  We have had a lot of talks these past couple of days.  I have always said he is a fighter and does not give in to weakness but he is tired of fighting. I totally understand but I don't know what to do to make it better for him.   I guess I will do what I do best and just listen and be here. (Thus the need for "snow therapy").  

Today was the perfect day for snow therapy. It snowed again last night while we were sleeping. There was about 6-8 inches of snow still on the ground from the last 3 snow "storms".  Last nights snow covered up all the dirty snow and made the world all clean and sparkly.  Until the guy who plows out the driveways showed up.  I didn't get out early enough to walk out to the mail box in the new snow but the woods and field are still untouched so that's where I walked.   It's cold out today. Minus 4 this morning but heating up to 18.  (I may go for a swim!).  I put on 2 pair of pants, a sweat shirt, fleece and coat, gloves, hat, scarf, 2 pair of socks and my high boots.  I haven't had that many clothes on EVER !!!!  Not even as a kid.  But I was TOASTY !!! (I forgot to mention the half box of tissues in my pockets. Nothing like cold weather to clear out those sinuses.)  

It is amazing out side. The sun is out and the snow is sparkling. The walk out to the mailbox is sheltered by all the tall pine trees so it looks quite magical. I stopped all along the way taking pictures of all the different trees with snow on them.  I cut across the woods from one driveway to the other in pristine snow. There were some deer tracks that crossed the path but other than that nothing had been there before me.  About half way through the woods I stopped to look up at the trees covered in snow.  It was so quiet that I could almost hear the few snow flakes that were falling.  I stood there with tears running down my face as I talked with God.  HE knew exactly what I needed in that moment.  

HERE WE GO AGAIN

This is a "hospital" blog so you can stop reading right now if you don't want to be bored. I am writing because I need to vent.  

 I am NOT in the hospital. Well technically I AM physically here IN the hospital but I am not the one in the bed. Once again we are having a "vacation" with The Man an hour from his home in Aurora Medial Center in Marinette, WI.  If you have to go to a hospital this is the place to be. Built in 2018 it has all the bells and whistles that all the old hospitals are missing.   

The last couple of weeks The Man has been having more difficulty with his breathing. I understand why but The Man just won't accept the reality of COPD.  It is fatal.  No cure, no real treatment, basically no hope of recovery.   I also understand why he does not want to recognize the reality of death waiting around the corner but it is what it is. We are on a one way street and going faster by the day. 

Back to the hospital vacation . . .  It took The Man days of not being able to breathe before he admitted MAYBE he should see a doctor.  Then we had to discuss his decision for a couple of hours. All the while I am making mental lists of what to pack because I know from experience we will NOT be returning home for days. Meanwhile Mr. Man is making his own list of all the things I need to bring FOR HIM!  I now need to decide what to put all this stuff in, my backpack just isn't big enough but a suitcase is too big. Having only 2 arms I will be balancing whatever I bring as I am pushing a wheelchair with "The Lump". in it. The Lump will be carrying a tank of oxygen because even though we have THREE contraptions with wheels to put the oxygen tanks in,  someone decided we needed to take this particular tank. In the car there is an oxygen concentrator, 4 tanks of oxygen, two wheelie carts to carry the oxygen and so many hoses and wires that I feel like a whale caught in fish nets.  

Now all of this is taking place on a Sunday morning. I had planned on going to mass Saturday night but things got crazy so I figured I would go on Sunday morning.  I woke up at 9:30 AM on Sunday. I spent some time trying to decide if I could make it to 10:30 mass to watch the live mass on my computer.  I almost decided to pull myself together and head to church when I walked into the kitchen to head for the bathroom.  As usual The Man was sitting at the kitchen table but today he was looking like dog poop.  I sat down to see what was going on and that was when he decided to contemplate going to the Er.  Forget thoughts of church, (I should have gone the night before). Forget a quiet Sunday afternoon of reading and forget my life being anything about me.  I was now in nursing care mode. and on the move to pulling everything together for a trip to the hospital.

Remembering that we are in Northern Michigan, medical care is going to be, at best, an hour away.  There is a hospital in the next town but they have a terrible reputation and our experience with them have not been good. So we headed straight to our favorite hospital in the next state.  It is also the hospital where The Man's pulmonologist works.  It is 90 minutes south of the farm but it's a nice ride along the western shore of Lake Michigan. It was a beautiful, sunny day to take a drive.  

 When we got there we checked in at the registration desk which took all of 3 seconds. Four seconds later someone was coming out to push The Man into the ER where there were THREE nurses waiting for us. Within seconds they had him in a bed, and changed into a hospital gown.  The ER doctor came in, everyone was asking questions, they took blood and a chest Xray, gave The Man 2 breathing treatments, put in an IV for fluids and another for antibiotics and left us to wait.  That was THE FASTEST ER admission I have ever experienced, and there have been many.   It was a whirlwind of activity so that a half hour after arriving we were sitting waiting for results.  All tests came back OK but they wanted to have us stay overnight to "monitor" the patient.  Two hours later when the IV's had finished we were moved to the ICU. The room was huge!  One bed, one recliner, 2 hospital trays, small toilet, and an alcove with a big window under which is a small table sitting between 2 upholstered seats.  This contraption folds out to make a camper style bed which is a little hard but I was so tired I slept like a rock.

The next day we were moved to a tiny room on one of the floors.  It had no place for me to sit no less sleep so that afternoon I got in the car and drove back to the farm for a shower, some clean clothes and a drink. It was starting to get dark as I drove home so I made the trip in exactly an hour.  Next morning I drove back to the hospital where the nurses took pity on us and moved us to a larger room that had a chair that converted into a twin bed.  Again it was not the most comfortable bed but it served the purpose.  Wednesday morning we were told that The Man was being released.  I don't know how we collected so much crap but we looked like nomads wandering the desert as I walked out to the car.  The man was exhausted so the trip home in a snow storm didn't bother him at all.

On the way to the farm we stopped for some groceries for Thanksgiving which was the next day. Just a "FEW" things. When we arrived home I got the Man inside the house and into his recliner while I brought in the four hundred bags that were in the car.  It was cold and snowing so I couldn't wait to get inside and warm.  

Next day was turkey day ! I cooked turkey thighs . . .  who knew you could buy just the thighs. The Man slept off and on all day but got up when one of the neighbors stopped by late in the afternoon.   Neighbor "Buzz" came in, had a beer and asked if the back of the van was supposed to be open.   

OH CRAP !!!!!!!!!!!!  I had left the wayback open and it had collected an inch and a half of snow. The ENTIRE  back of the van was filled with snow.  And so I spent Thanksgiving evening shoveling snow out of the back of The Man's car.  

And. you wonder why I drink !!

AGING GRACEFULLY ?

 This blog comes to you today thanks to my best friend Sharon.  I told her I would give her credit for it because without her I would never have a really good laugh. Sharon is the sort of friend who can get the two of us laughing over the dumbest things. And when I say "laughing" I mean pee your pants laughing. I know God put the two of us together as friends because if we were sisters our mothers would have killed us long before this.   Sharon and I are both born the same month in the same year. Just in different parts of the country. Only by God's hand did we find ourselves l living across the street from each other in NY and raising our families at the same time.  We can and do talk about EVERYTHING !!!!  We somehow keep each other sane when the world gets messy.  The older we get we are also "loosing filters" so if anyone is sharing a conversation with us they had better be prepared for anything.

And now for THE BLOG . . .  

Some how or other my chat yesterday with my BFF, (Who I have not seen in about 6 years.   Shame on me !)  was coming to a close when one of us said something about Aging Gracefully.  And it was down hill from there.  If ever there was an oxymoron "AGING GRACEFULLY" is it !!!  When you hit our age there is NOTHING graceful about aging.  It is a noisy, nasty, stinky, wrinkly, saggy and painful process. Nothing graceful in any of it.   Our bodies make some of the most God awful noises whenever we move. If we stand up too fast we get dizzy and have to flop backwards back into the chair before we fall over. (There is nothing graceful about a whale sized, uncoordinated old lady FLOPPING backwards into a chair.) I swear at times when my knees start making noises it sounds like a bone snapping in half.  And forget about the intestinal noises that can erupt unexpectedly as you walk across a room.  That's a ton of fun !  

Our noses constantly drip and our lips usually have some drool slipping out from the sides.  Our eyes water and Lord knows anything can and will happen when we sneeze.  Forget about the sags and wrinkles all over my body.  You would think that with all the sagging, gravity would pull the skin on my face tighter but instead my skin is a scientific phenomena that really should be studied.  If I am gaining weight why does it not fill in all the loose skin in my flabby arms ?   Where did those "wings" come from?  I was never three hundred pounds so why do I have all that excess skin ?????  

Old people no longer have specific body parts. All the body parts have all blended together to create something like an amoeba, no set form, just a blob of gelatinous material. My chin has reproduced itself numerous times so that it now keeps my chest warm. Which is a good thing because my boobs are no longer where they were supposed to be. They headed south many years ago never to be seen again.  It's a good thing my stomach is there to stop them or they would be tripping me when I try to walk.  As for the legs . . . well, my knees are drooping into my calves so my calves have had to move in with my, what used to be, ankles. No ankles, no calves . . . . Just cankles.    

Heaven help me if I ever get pulled over for drunk driving. How do you explain that not only can you not drive in a straight line but you also can not walk in a straight line.  Somewhere along this aging process I lost my inner compass so that when I walk I drift from one side of the sidewalk to the other.  I used to make fun of Sharon for doing the exact same thing when we would go for walks around the neighborhood.  It was quite funny at the time. Unfortunately now that it has happened to me it isn't so funny.  I hadn't realized just how bad it is until it snowed the other day and I took a walk out to the mailbox.  When I turned around to head back to the house  there were my foot prints in the snow looking like a drunk moose had just walked by. And while we are talking about "turning around" . . .   that is no easy task. It can take me 5 minutes to perform that maneuver. First I have to STOP moving forward and focus on where I am and why I want to turn around. Then it is a planned motion of putting one foot to the side, bring the other foot around to meet it, move the first foot a little more, move foot #2 again  . . . . and so on until I can no longer see where I was.  Of course more often than not by the time I manage this I no longer remember WHY I was turning around.  

When I tell The Man I am going for a walk it is a crap shoot as to whether or not he will ever see me again.  The good thing about all this ungracefulness is that I am absolutely in NO danger of ever being kidnapped.  One look at me "walking" along and anyone would pass right by. 

So as for aging gracefully . . .  it is IMPOSSIBLE !!!  But it is entertaining and at least I'm still able to se the humor in it.