Geriatric Preparation

Now that I'm 25, it's weird telling people that I'm that old. I feel older. I've always considered myself a little bit of an old soul but I'm starting to feel old. Even though I'm in shape, I'm relatively certain that my knees started to ache when it got cold outside yesterday. That has never happened to me before. Now it's only a matter of time before my back and other joints give out to arthritis. Knowing my luck, this is also the beginning of a downhill slope towards an enlarged prostate and impotence. Fantastic. Maybe when I turn 26 I can have my first heart attack and start having annual colonoscopies by the time I'm 27. I'll probably have to empty out my fishing tackle box and replace the lures with what will probably be a mini-pharmacy used keep me alive. My toes have been starting to ache too. I'm probably getting gout, bunions or corns. I might as well start stocking up on some Preparation H for my inevitable hemorrhoids. While I'm at it, I'll start buying stool softeners like they just went out of style. (Because stool softeners have ALWAYS been in!) I'll also need a blender so I can be prepared for my puree diet and then buy Ensure in bulk for when I get a feeding tube. Just to be ahead of the curve, I'm going to start wearing diapers so I can get used to the uncomfortable feeling of shitting my pants and walking around in it for hours. Next, I'll steal urinary catheters for my personal use to eliminate the risk of tripping and breaking my hip at night while walking to the bathroom. I'm betting my bones are probably about as strong as twigs. I will be breaking bones left and right!

Now that I've accepted that I'm old, I can now accept my mental downtrend towards senility. I'm forgetting everything and about half the shit I say makes minimal sense. Soon I'll start forgetting familiar faces, lose track of the current year, and start accusing minorities of stealing small things that I can't find in my house. I don't think I'm to the point that I can start fondling people as I see fit and then blame it on my age. I'm hoping that time will come as soon as possible so that it can enhance the quality of my declining life.

Now that you all know what is coming, you can now start making arrangements to put me in a nursing home. I'm not picky on which nursing home seeing as though the staff will probably have the decency to accidentally put me out of my misery like most of their other patients. I'll probably die from being left in bed in my own poo for too long or  preferably from being hit by a car after wandering the street unattended.

 I don't need a fancy funeral. Just remember me as I am at the time of death: An average pants-shitting, thirty-something year-old, who aged faster than Robin Williams in that crappy movie, "Jack."