The Old Coot’s pants are
on fire.
By Merlin Lessler
I’m a liar. Everyone is, but
it’s something that a lot of people won’t admit. Not me! I even lie to my
doctor. I’m not alone. Many of my fellow old coots do too. It starts right off
when the doctor walks into the little room where you’ve waited, staring at
gruesome pictures on the wall, for the longest ten minutes of your life. “How
are you doing, Mr. Coot. Any issues?” What kind of question is that? To ask of
an old man. Of course, there are issues, all of which I’ve come to accept over my
“golden” years, and know how to live with. So, I lie, “I’m doing great!”
“Any chest pains?” – “Not
really.” Just the normal ones I get every once in a while – some could be
heart related – most are old age related – indigestion or muscle aches from
screwing in a light bulb. I’ve lived with these chest things for years, so no
sense letting that cat out of the bag. I have a few stents – put in five years ago,
so I’m an expert at listening to my body. If I didn’t lie, I’d be in for a round
of unnecessary tests, probes and a battery of appointments spending endless
hours in waiting and examining rooms. So, for my own good, I lie.
“You up in the night a
lot?” – “Sometimes; no complaints.” Sometimes? What a lie – how about every
night! That’s the norm for an old coot. No sense in getting into a new round of
appointments with a urologist. I’m not bringing up the subject until the rug
between my bedroom and the bathroom starts to wear thin.
“How are you sleeping?” –
“Good. No problem.” What a lie! – I love my 11am nap – the 3pm doze reading a
book – the TV shows after dinner that I mostly sleep through. I sleep in bits
and pieces so by bedtime I don’t go down for a solid stretch of time. Bad sleep
habits (patterns) are the norm for us old guys. No sense admitting it and
setting myself up for a session at a sleep clinic, listening to a bunch of old
guys snoring.
All through the doctor
visit –Lie! – Lie! – Lie! But these are healthy lies that many old coots have mastered.
We’re dealing with medical professionals who have studied, but never
experienced, the ins and outs of old age. It’s not a science. Old age is an
art. Give me an 80-year-old doctor and I will stop telling lies.
Comments? Send to
mlessler7@gmail.com
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