Yesterday I went out to lunch with my dad. And today he is guest posting for me. Enjoy!
My Yum-Cha with Mrs Woog started innocuously enough with discussions about family members etc. and giving my feedback on her blog posts.
When discussing health and well-being I announced that I seemed to be shrinking - not a family trait!
It's true though. It's a factor of ageing.
This prompted Mrs Woog to ask me to chronicle my thoughts on ageing.
Whether she could "see the writing on the wall' and thought she might not get too many more posts out of me I don't know, but here goes!
The first time the "penny drops" is when you realize that you can no longer describe yourself as "middle aged" (I would now have to live to 134 to be so classified).
(Mrs Woog paused noticeably in the middle of dealing enthusiastically with a steamed dumpling when I invited her to multiply her own age by two and reflect on the concept of middle age)
I have always taken care with my appearance, but now I get by "with a little help from my friends".
Between the WSM and Mrs Woog and Mrs Ryan, my ageing (read degradation) is closely monitored.
Let's start at the top - hair.
Firstly, one becomes follically challenged.
This not a phenomenon exclusive to the ageing, I know, but it has special significance as follows:
When one visits the barber (hairdresser these days) one swaps the following lines with that tonsorial artist:
"You can't grow grass on a busy street"
"It's the brains coming through"
"It is caused by my boss patting me on the head telling me what a good job I am doing"
A bald plate brings with it a certain dryness of the scalp. Mrs Woog introduced me to Eulactol, a product for dry skin. While it did not restore growth, it eliminated the need for the WSM to "tidy me up" when exiting the marital home.
On to the ears. Now a lot of my mates have hair growing from their ears, the quantum which would give Blinky Bill a run for his money.
There is no excuse for that and I am happy to say that I stay on top of that one!
As for the actual efficiency of hearing, my ears have never really recovered from the night the WSM and I took Mrs Woog and her brother and sister to the Hordern Pavilion to hear the Hoodoo Gurus and the Uncanny X Men.
That said, they continue to do a reasonable job.
My nose is sometimes the opposite of follically challenged but this is remedied by the use of a battery-operated device made by Whal, which boasts that it can be "rinsed clean".
I had my eyes lasered about 14 years ago and I could then see like a cat and read the phone book easily.
I can no longer fully appreciate the raunchy calendars which seem to traditionally be on display in Barber Shops.
It has got to the stage where I now need to wear glasses when I am either tired or affected by fermented and spirituous liquors.
Sadly, both these states are predominantly in play during most of my waking hours.
I proudly have my own teeth, so we will move onto the face.
I quite willingly put moisturiser on my face, defying the predominant attitude of many blokes my age that there is something rather odd about doing so.
Nivea Visage Moisturising Fluid SPF 15 is my weapon of choice.
Onto the inside of the head to the brain and mind.
I would like to think that ageing has made more tolerant of the mental bankrupts and oxygen thieves who incessantly cross my path.
I suffer the usual memory lapses (what did I come downstairs to get?) but by and large I'm doing OK.
The use of internet should be compulsory for all seniors and I love it! It is the best mental stimulation.
I come from a family which enjoys longevity, so I guess I have a good heart. Time will tell.
Usual mild blood pressure and controlled cholesterol conditions gives me something in common with my drinking mates.
Before moving onto the knees, I will just state that as this is a family post, I have deliberately avoided any sensitive areas between the heart and knees.
Suffice it to say that I have three fine offspring and am unlikely to add to that tally.
I must also reluctantly acknowledge that my long cherished ambition of being shot at by a jealous husband when I am 92 is becoming a tad unrealistic.
My Rheumatologist diagnosed me with water on the knee, and later changed the diagnosis to Carlton Draft on the knee.
I must admit my knees are giving me a bit of trouble, but that's life!
My legs and feet are OK, save the odd touch of gout. I live 178 paces from my local bar, but curiously it is now 376 paces back home!
In summary, I'm doing OK.
Ageing is OK. Don't be afraid of it.
In fact ageing opens a whole new world of serenity and opportunity through grandkids, travel, reminiscing and acquired wisdom.
It helps to have a good mate (WSM) and good family, and I am abundantly rich on both those measures.
Finally, to all you followers of my daughter's blog, and to your parents and grandparents for whom I hope this post strikes a chord don't forget that nature indeed lets you down gently (and slowly).
Thanks for letting me share my thoughts with you.
Dad of Mrs Woog
