No finish line

Another peculiarity about growing old: the realization the process has no ending. Every day, I wake up only to discover the process is still continuing. And, from what I hear from others, not only is it drawn out, it also doesn’t easier.

Most endeavors in my life have had an end:  a diploma to hang on the wall to prove I passed the course, a new skill I mastered that I could present to my admirers, one of life’s phases finished so I could move on to the next. I learned to walk, to ride a bicycle, to have an orgasm. Once accomplished, I moved on to learning other skills.  

Even tragedies were over at a certain point and, realizing they hadn’t killed me, I felt they made me stronger. My hair, for example. One day it was there, and then it wasn’t. It came to an end. Granted, I am still gay. THAT never came to an end. But even though it was a minor crucifixion when I was growing up, once I hit 20, it became fabulous.

Then l I reached the age of sophistication (read: I turned 50), and came up against something that never ends: Old Age! No graduation, no degree, no grand finale promises to come along and free me of this new endeavor.

Except death.

Which might sound macabre, but the idea does bring some comfort. Imagine continuing the aging project forever and forever. Alone the idea of the loose flesh sagging ever deeper is appalling. And, all those little quirks that come with old age like heart attacks, stiff knees, drooping testicles; what afflictions would we be up against as we reached the millennial mark in getting older? I hate to think about it. There are things now happening to my body and mind I would have thought hard to believe ten years, impossible to believe when I was in my twenties. And it doesn’t stop. What would it look like in the year 3024?

I used to think if I were good enough, didn’t complain, carried on like nothing was happening, the whole aging would stop at a certain point; life, pleased with the way I’d mastered getting old, would shout out, ‘You did it, man. I’m proud of you. So, here’s your old body back. We’re now on to a different adventure.’

Alas, the next birthday came along and I discovered I was still getting older.

I tried to stave the process off with green smoothies, hyaluronic Acid, and repair tools enough to fill an auto mechanics garage. They all slowed it down somewhat, but I find out now, it was like trying to build a dam on life. The waters of aging collected in the reservoir, everything appeared to be going well on the other side of the dam. But life has a way of multiplying beyond imagination and when the damn burst I was inundated with effects of things I had no idea existed: whiskers in my ears, eyebrows growing faster than my hair ever did, wrinkles under my butt, gray pubic hairs, the libido of a twenty-year-old…

The list continues to grow.

The only consolation: I’m not alone. According to recent studies, over 90% of people still alive are also getting older.