What Choice Do I Have?

Recently I said to my doctor, “I feel like I’m getting so old. I feel tired a lot. And my elbows look like shriveled lemons.”  

In my 20s and 30s, I was pain-free 95% of the time. The 5% pain was from over-exercising or falling off barstools after 2 a.m. I had an occasional ache or pain in my forties and fifties, but it was generally gone the next day. But the 60-and-up crowd was quick to share with me what hurt them. And keeps hurting them.

I’d hear, “Getting old is not for sissies. Thank God I’m retired, or I wouldn’t have time to visit all my doctors.”  And, “Who is the most popular person in a retirement home? The person that can still drive at night.” 

I’d hear, “Getting old is not for sissies. Thank God I’m retired, or I wouldn’t have time to visit all my doctors.”  

And, “Who is the most popular person in a retirement home? The person that can still drive at night.” 

The stories were sometimes sad and occasionally funny. One woman told me she busted a rib sitting on the toilet. Another said he had a stroke biting into a Fuji apple. A few weeks before his death, my grandfather said, “I’m stiff everywhere except the one part I wish still was.” 

I heard their complaints, but because I was still years away, most of what they said did not compute. I thought, in their situation, I’d be a fighter. Yet, they all seemed resigned to living with whatever they had. I’d hear “What choice do I have?” 

When entering my sixth decade, like an old Ford, I was told I had a leaky hose and one my valves started wearing out. Doctors questioned me about how many times I get up at night. The painful snap of their rubber glove became commonplace. My doctor got mad when I joked, “Can’t we do the glove thing at the park where there’s a nice breeze?” Little by little I began racking up aches, pains, and ailments. I’m quickly closing in on my very own medicine cabinet. 

It now takes at least 30 minutes to fill my oversized pill cases. Each pill has possible side effects that are potentially worse than the actual disease. Amazingly, not one of my medications cures a thing except for the CEO of Pfizer’s need to one day retire in a 30,000 square foot home overlooking the ocean in Maui. And that is as the dolphins wave hello to him on their way to get sushi. 

I’m now being treated for an amalgam of different things: high blood pressure, high cholesterol, cataracts, possibly glaucoma, lower back pain, tinnitus, and atrial fibrillation. The good news is that I have no dental problems because I have no original God-given pearly whites. 

To try counterbalancing, I’m a vegan, don’t smoke, drink, or use recreational drugs. My plantar fasciitis keeps me from chasing any woman but my wife. And she’s relatively easy to catch since tearing her meniscus. I exercise seven days a week. My treadmill is not an expensive coat hanger. I use it. I also ride my Peloton and lift light weights because of bulging discs and popping L4 and L5 vertebrae. I walk everywhere I can. I meditate and pray. And I fight like heck to keep off the 50 pounds I lost over a decade ago. 

With all of this, I’m in better shape than many of my friends. But because some of these ailments are more serious than others, I listen to my doctors and never miss taking my pills. Here it is, “What choice do I have?” There, I said it.  Like an old car, you fix it until you can’t fix it anymore. 

I refuse to throw in the warm towel which I need to help me with my dry eyes. I will not give up. I will do whatever I have to do. I owe it to my friends, family, and my Creator. I owe it to everyone that shares in this great life of mine. And it’s not one-sided. If I am able, hopefully, I will be there for them. Like they’ve been there for me. If you want to go to hell, then you need to dwell on what’s wrong. 

But helping others takes your mind off you and your swollen feet.  

Gotta go.  It’s nappy nap time. After all, what choice do I have?

Mark Schiff is a comedian, actor and writer, and host of the ‘You Don’t Know Schiff’ podcast. His new book is “Why Not? Lessons on Comedy, Courage and Chutzpah.”