When I was younger, a bad day was one in which things didn't go right. Had a flat tire, or my students gave me fits, or my once-husband and/or daughter snarled at me for something seemingly out of my control. When I talked to older folks to inquire how they were doing, I was always somewhat amused by their response: "I have my good days and my bad days." Only they weren't referring to flat tires or errant students/children/spouses. They were referring to how they felt, physically. I didn't get it then, but I think I do now!
It is sad to have to be an eyewitness to one's own physical deterioration. My mind's still okay (I think) but my body just doesn't respond to my brain's requests! For instance, I need to get down on my hands and knees to do some yard work...and to wash the bathroom floors. My knees don't like that! Five years ago, I could do it. I can still do it now, for a little bit...but it takes twice as long, and getting up from the floor becomes a problem.
My once-father-in-law complained, "My mind's gone!" I just chuckled. Artie was in his 80s but seemed pretty sharp to me. What I didn't know then (but get now) was that he was an eyewitness to his own mental deterioration. He KNEW his mind was less than it once was and could do nothing about it. And that's the bad part. When you can see yourself slipping and can't control it, there is a sense of loss. As we Baby Boomers age, things just change. I don't like it very much but need to stop whining about it, so I will just say this: IT SUCKS!
Thank you. :)
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