falling to pieces

Sprained my ankle on the weekend. Too painful to walk. Could barely manage the stairs at home.

Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, been there, done that, many times, usually falling over, or falling off my bike.


Apparently I have floppy joints. Not only does this delight mean that I AM technically limp wristed, it also means I'm quite flexible - just not in ways I should be. Most of the time it's no biggie. I can do some tricks with my thumbs, although the one that had a serious scaphoid break is no longer as flexible as the one with a minor scaphoid break. I can easily bend my toes to vertical. Paradoxically, my shoulders don't have a full range of movement.

But back to my ankle. like I said, normally I'll fall over, rolling or twisting my ankle on an uneven surface (because my joints allow excess movement). On Sunday, I was walking. OK, it was an uneven surface, but I didn't twist or roll my ankle at all. It felt wrong as soon as I put my foot down - it seemed like I was compressing my foot more than normal - no twisting - but it all worked. Until I put it down for the next step. WTF? Where did that pain come from?

Somehow, using my bike as a crutch, I managed to hobble up the rest of the hill and ride home. Riding hurt, but it wasn't as bad as walking.

Ice, rest, a tight ankle guard, and a day off, and it seems to be sort of OK. It still hurts, but I can walk, gingerly. There's no bruising or swelling, as I'd expect for a sprain. Just hurt.

I think this must be another of those cons of getting older.

Bugger.

Cons and pros of getting older

I've been struggling a bit with getting older. My dad's brush with cancer has probably made me more aware of his, and therefore my, mortality, and it's not a pleasant thought. To me death is an end, not the start of eternal life, not 72 virgins waiting to minister to my every need, just an end. For me, THE end.

But it's not only that. It's the little things that mount up - my old man feet, which shuffle around in the morning until they warm up, and hurt much of the rest of the time. My hair falling out, and what's left going grey. Ever deepening wrinkles signalling that I'm no longer one of the young ones (who, Neil?). Various creaks and regular twinges. Nana naps, loss of strength, weight gain, eye worries, depression... sigh... it just goes on and on. 

Still, it ain't all bad. The only alternative I know of is that unpalatable end I mentioned earlier, and I'm not ready to go there yet. I've travelled more since my kids have flown the coop. I'm financially stable, and own my house - termite ridden though it is. I own the best motorbike I've ever had, but I have lost some of my ability to ride it as it deserves.

Best of all? Attractive women. I'm not playing up or anything, but few straight men can honestly admit they don't admire the looks and form of an attractive woman. And here's the thing. When I was 18, I found girls of 16 to... maybe 22... attractive. Any younger was gaol bait, any older was too old. When I was 18, 40 year olds were as old as my parents - ancient, and not at all interesting. 

Now I reckon anyone younger than mid 20s is just a little girl. Yes, pretty or even beautiful to look at, but attractive to me? Not any more. Nowadays, to be genuinely attractive to me (as opposed to worth a perv) women need to be in their 40s (possibly late 30s), but they could be as old as 60.

That's a 20 year span covering women I could genuinely be attracted to, with a range of another 15 years covering younger eye candy. 35 years! When I was 18, it was a mere six years. There are lot more women in the age ranges I find attractive now than there ever were when I was 18. What's more, straight beauty is no longer the key factor - sure it's there, but its importance has diminished. Yes, the best thing about growing old is that there are more attractive women to admire.

Of course, there's a key element we haven't touched upon - my attractiveness to this vast field of women. And we won't touch upon it, because I'll only get depressed again. Sigh.