Getting old can be a burden. It causes changes in your life you never dreamed of making.

 

Your independence compromised, you still try to be . . .

 

 

One Perky Pup

 

     Spending time in my doctor’s office wasn’t my idea of fun. On a beautiful June morning, with the sun shining and the temperature in the mid-eighties, I could think of many other places I’d rather be.

     As I sat in the waiting room, I cringed at the idea of the doc pulling, poking, and probing various portions of my body, as he had in previous visits. I wondered why he just didn’t ask me how I felt instead of subjecting me to such torture.    

     I tried to relax on the padded bench, as I waited, but thoughts of some of the more invasive procedures I’d undergone in the past plagued me. I remembered the one where Dr. Noble stuck a probing thing up my rear. It may have been his finger, but I’m not sure. I’m getting older and my memory isn’t as sharp as it used to be, as a young pup.

     After the procedure, we went into his office. He turned to my caregiver, Jackson, and commented, “Everything looks fine.” He ignored me—treated me as if I didn’t exist. But I was standing right there.

     I attempted to put the past behind me. I cocked my head to hear the sounds coming from other patients. My hearing has diminished over the years, so I can’t make sense out of some of the dialogue, which seems to bounce off my ears. However, when a male patient’s caregiver shouted at him, “Sit still, Jonsey! The doctor will see you soon.” It rattled me beyond belief.

     God, I’d much rather be out exercising, flexing my muscles, and running through the beautiful park about a quarter mile from my home. Sometimes I’d take a break and lounge on the park bench and watch the birds play. Often, I’d eat my lunch there, too. However, as I’ve aged, I’ve become sloppy, dropping crumbs from my mouth. Though that hasn’t been all bad; for then I’d get to watch the birds wrestle for the remnants of my edibles.

     But this wouldn’t be happening today. Nick, my current caregiver, friend, and driver, mumbled, “Annual physical, Charlie. It’s a preventative maintenance thing. Should’ve been done two months ago, but you made such a fuss. Now you have no choice.”

     However, I felt fine. So this made little sense to me. I’m a stud, a ladies’ man—a “chick magnet.” With all systems still working, I’m in great shape for a male in my declining years.

     Nick buried his head in a magazine, as I waited to be called in for my confrontation with humiliation. I nudged him to get his attention and said, “Hey man, talk to me, help me get my mind off my upcoming plight.” He didn’t respond. Either he didn’t hear me or he didn’t want to.

     As I fidgeted on the waiting room bench, the room continued to fill up. “What a herd of animals,” I muttered under my breath. It was obvious, each one, being dragged in by a companion or attendant, didn’t want to be here.

     Well, if I couldn’t get through to Nick, maybe I could occupy my mind by creating a distraction from the fate awaiting me inside the exam room. I broadened my shoulders and shook my neck back and forth to get the crick out of it. At my age, body parts tightened up on a regular basis. I held my head erect and puffed out my chest. It was “chick magnet” time, and I had to be in my best form.

     Without moving my head, as I didn’t want to appear too obvious, anxious, or, heaven forbid, needy, only my eyes moved. I scanned the waiting room to check out the ladies. 

     I saw a cute one standing across the room. She seemed to have spunk, which belied her age. With gorgeous coiffed hair and a curvaceous body, she fascinated me. “Wow!” I yelped. Embarrassed by my outburst, I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized she hadn’t heard me.

     But then I started to salivate—slobber out of control. As an old guy, drooling came with the territory. Oh my, this is embarrassing. I’ve got to keep my composure. Signs flashed through my mind, Maintain cool. Maintain cool.

     However, I became overheated and my eyes clouded over. But even with my impaired vision, I still was able to focus my attention on this elegant woman. Her beauty captivated me. Then my concentration was interrupted, as I heard a voice coming from the loudspeaker, “Charlie Rollins, please report to Exam Room 2.” 

     Nick helped me up off the bench. With his assistance, I made my way to the exam room, expecting the worst.

     Life seldom works the way one thinks it will. The poking and probing were minimal and my greatest fear wasn’t realized—a finger pushed up my rear. Seems I had a PSA exam as part of my blood test and the doctor felt its negative outcome would suffice to indicate the good health of my prostate gland.

     Once the exam was completed, Nick helped me dress. We then plodded into the doctor’s office for a consultation before leaving.

     Dr. Noble pulled out his chair and sat down behind the desk. He motioned to Nick and me to sit across from him. This made me a bit uncomfortable, as I thought, Here we go again, he’s going to talk to Nick and ignore me. But I managed to remain calm.

     To my surprise, he looked me straight in the eye and said, “Charlie, you’re in excellent shape for a male approaching ninety-five. Keep doing what you’ve been doing and I won’t have to see you until your next annual check-up.”

     “Well, what do you know?” I muttered to myself.

     As we left the doctor’s office, I strutted alongside Nick, trying not to appear too cocky after passing this all-important exam. I was ecstatic, as I looked forward to returning home.

     Nick helped me into his late-model Nissan Murano and closed the door behind me. He entered the driver’s side and we began our short journey. As we drove in the main gate of the Shady Acres Assisted Living Retirement Community, I could feel my heart racing.

     The man of the hour has returned, his “thousand mile check-up” complete. What will the ladies think now? I thought.

     With a slight smile on my face, I murmured, “I’m ‘one perky pup.’ I may be old, but I’m raring to go . . . but is anybody up to going with me?”

 

 

Copyright © 2021 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.