The immortal words of The Who that grace the title of this post are a bit of an exaggeration, but I had a minor taste of old age last Wednesday, and the old saying that "youth is wasted on the young" suddenly seem less like the jealous mutterings of old people but perhaps heart-felt sighs from the same.
I was so incredibly sore (from a combination of running more than I should have, jetskiing, and having a nasty cold) that walking was a chore. I was shuffling along like an old man, wincing every step. I called off of work and went in to the store to equip myself for the misery that is being sick and sore.
Supermarkets are designed to require as little thought as possible. I'm sure that most people don't think twice about a shopping trip to Wal-mart or Meijer - you realize you need something, then there's a brief gap in your life of maybe half an hour, then you have what you needed. It's automatic, and so easy and efficient that you might as well forget it ever happened, except for the fact that you have a little less money and a little more of whatever product you needed.
Not so with those for whom walking itself is painful. I shuffled in, and tried leaning on the cart, but that just transferred the pain to my back and arm muscles, which were more sore than the legs because of the strengthening the legs have gone through due to my recent running regimen. I wandered about the pharmacy department, and found vitamins, Dayquil, and Advil. Then I found a few cartons of bottled water in the aisle. It was painful to lift them into the cart, but possible.
Then I started looking for the tissues. I looked up and down the pharmacy aisles. Nothing. Perhaps a little further down? Past the pet supplies? Nothing. I decide to swallow my pride (which had already been dealt a body blow by the fact that I looked completely ridiculous shuffling along with my cart) and ask an attendant for directions. Now, to find one...
Finding one, it turns out, is easy. They're all over the place. But the problem is that they are constantly moving. This is where I started getting really frustrated, and started to feel real sympathy for the elderly. They were walking too fast for me. I could have yelled out to one, but I couldn't toss away the last scap of pride that I had. I might as well stand outside and start panhandling. I followed one, hoping she would stop to arrange something, but she disappeared down an aisle, and when I caught up, she was gone. I tried to catch another one, but he was in a hurry and I quite seriously could not keep up with him.
I started thinking more and more about the plight of the elderly. Those "I've fallen and I can't get up!" scenarios seem less like a joke and more like hell on earth. I wasn't so sore that I couldn't have gotten up from the ground, but I understood just how frustrating - and dangerous - such a situation could be. I suddenly had a better appreciation for just how much a physical handicap can limit one's ability to do tasks that, to me, are so mundane as to be forgettable.
Eventually, I found an attendant who was standing still, and she informed me that the tissues were in the other corner of the store. I grimaced a bit, and prepared for the long shuffle.
Epilogue
It took me two trips to get everything from my car to my room, mainly because the water was heavy. I sat and did nothing all day, except to eat every now and then, and to drink lots of water. The vitamins and Advil helped immensely with the soreness, and as of tomorrow, I'll be well enough to start running again. This week has changed me. No longer am I a cocky young 'un, tooting my horn at the girls and listening to my "rock and roll" music. I've learned why old people are grumpy all of the time, and that knowledge has sobered me. I suppose if any lessons can be taken from this, they are, "don't catch a cold," and, "don't get old."
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