The Golden Years: A New Definition

So, after we finished work in Boston yesterday we got in the car and headed to Poughkeepsie. I've got a keynote to do before heading home. I'd had several cups of tea and by the time we got to the hotel both Joe and I were bursting for a bathroom. We realized that, one of the parts of getting older, is that bathrooms become increasingly more important, and trips there are a little more frequent. We've decided that's why we call them 'the golden years'.

In the room, Joe was having an ache in his shoulder so he asked me to hand him the 'Benny Tinn' from our pill case, I handed over the aspirin. We've renamed the metallic bottle they are kept in 'Benny Tinn' after Benny Hinn, the television evangelist who regularly heals people of huge, improbable diseases. We did this because when we've got a twinge we now need the aspirin to work miracles in our bodies and keep us going.

Our sense of humour, both of us, about every new phase of our life, is really a powerful thing. The other day, Joe was pushing me somewhere and winced a few times? Here was our conversation:

'Shoulder?'
'No, knee.'

a few minutes later

'Foot?'
'No, leg.'

a few minutes later

'Hip?'
'No, shoulder.'

Suddenly, we were laughing. A day after his birthday and his whole body was in protest. Others around us must have thought we heard the punchline to the funniest joke. Because we were both giggling wildly.

I got into the hotel and somehow, riding a chair, I managed to twist my ankle. So now, when I walk the bit that I do  walk, I'm hopping. When I hop, my body makes weird slapping noises.

How fitting.

My body is applauding the two of us making it through, simply, another day.