Friday, September 09, 2011

Clapped Out

So, my celebration of all things Middle Aged and mature only lasted until Wednesday of this week.

My enjoyment of the view from the brow of the hill lasted but a transient moment before I lost my footing and found myself hurtling down the other side towards degeneracy, using my perfectly formed buttocks as a makeshift toboggan.

As said Daryl Hannah put it in Bladerunner – “accelerated decrepitude”.

How did this come to pass?

Two reasons.

The first, which due to the secrets act both official and unofficial I can’t reveal to you in any detail, has had me shifting, carrying, humping (not in a good way), erecting (ditto), deconstructing and painting pretty much constantly for the last 5 days. The first two days were a nice workout. After that it became a war of attrition which the recuperative powers of my body started to lose alarmingly. I found myself thinking, I’m 42, I’m not a spring chicken anymore. I know, I know. 42 is hardly one foot in the grave but really, when you compare yourself to twenty-something colleagues it is hard not to find oneself in a downer.

The second reason is linked to the first in the sense that the first has exacerbated the problem: painful feet. Agonizing feet. On one foot I seem to have a callus forming on the underside of my little toe. So much so I fear it is developing a hard-shell and will soon be harvested by Rick Stein for one of his Cornish seafood eateries. On the other foot I have a bugger of a corn on the side of my second-to-little toe. It is generating so much pain and heat when I walk on it that I am considering taking up fire-walking by way of achieving some kind of relief.

I am, of course, following a treatment of corn removal plasters purchased from the local chemist. Each day I pull the plaster off the corn sticks it’s head out a bit more – a bit a like a tortoise coming out of hibernation. It feels like a biggee. A deepee. So deep in fact that it reminds me of those hollow drill things that archaeologist / geo-physics people use to take core samples from the earth that go back to Iron Age ground levels. When this beauty comes out it is going to have my pre-natal stem cells perched right on the end of it and possibly a good dollop of bone marrow to boot.

In the meantime I am hobbling about so much like an old man that my wife has taken to wincing whenever she sees me – which may explain the dark sunglasses she wears whenever we are out together and the fact she usually walks on the other side of the road to me.

Ho hum.

Well, she’ll be sorry when I draw out my pension next week – she can go and buy her own surgical stockings. And if she thinks she can borrow my false teeth again to eat toffee she can just forget it. I’m going to speak to the Matron right now and demand separate rooms!

Bah humbug!



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30 comments:

Nota Bene said...

I don't think the wife walking on the other side of the street has anything to do with your health problems....

Steve said...

Nota Bene: how strange. That's exactly what she says...

Martin Lower said...

A couple of months ago, I spent two or three days painting the outside of the house. As I was using scaffolding this meant spending a lot of time on my knees.
God, it hurt! Like you, I spent a couple of days walking like an old man.
It's all down hill from here you know.....

Gorilla Bananas said...

Corn plasters are for sissies. Dip your toe in barley water and get a mouse to nibble away at it. You can't expect your wife to walk next to a lame duck that will attract predators.

Clippy Mat said...

Corns? Bunions, clapped out feet?
Ugh howay man, I'm having me breakfast here.
;-)

Wanderlust said...

I don't like it when someone younger than me complains about getting old. Harder for me to live my illusion that way. Damn you.

the fly in the web said...

I tried walking on the other side of the street....he just crossed over too...

Rol said...

Don't worry, Steve, at least you've still got your...

I mean, you're still a...

You...

No. I'm all out of reassurance. You old bastard.

(Like I can talk, with my back.)

Steve said...

Martin Lower: if it was just downhill I wouldn't feel so bad. I feel like I'm heading into a mine.

Gorilla Bananas: funnily enough we have a foot treatment place in town that offers a service where little fishes nibble at your feet to remove the dead skin. Not exactly mice but near enough. As for predators, the only predators round here are hoodies and they're scared of the rain.

Clippy Mat: cornflakes by any chance?

Wanderlust: no way are you older than me. No way. There - feel better? ;-)

The fly in the web: you need to let go of the leash. ;-)

Rol: I'll just bite into that cyanide pill right now, shall I?

Marginalia said...

God, if you're grumbling now at 42, what will you be like when you are really aged? You make Bruce Forsyth seem positively juvenile.

As for corns, the best treatment is to stop wearing those outrageously high heels you keep borrowing from the wife. I know you think you have nice ankles but it's just not worth it. I know.

Bish Bosh Bash said...

God you’re such an old ‘downer dog’ aren’t you. I bet you even forked out for a platinum membership to the Royal Society of Hypochondriac’s…in advance. I just know we’re all going to have to endure an ever increasing number of posts dedicated to you, hemaroids and your zigga zits in future.

You’re time truly has arrived hasn’t it. You’ve been craving all your life to reach your absolute zenith at the earliest possible opportunity, and thus toboggan down the other slippery slope before anyone else, and guess what? You did! Cos you just manically shrieked your way past me on my climbing ropes, and I’ve got to say I’ve never seen you looking so joyously miserable.

Why don’t you install yourself a great big ‘sympathy meter’ gadget on your sidebar, so we can all amuse you by clicking on its button every time we drop in here to see how you’re wailing from week to week. I’m off to pull out some more of my teeth…and cheer myself up.

Oh, and P.S. - don't simply 'bite' down on the cyanide pill, just try sucking on it instead. Takes infinitely longer to finally croak it. An it's so much more unpleasant to endure. You'll absolutely love it.

Steve said...

Marginalia: but I could still get away with the body boot and push-up bra, right?

Bish Bosh Bash: I feel like I'm being given advice by the master. I'd make notes but this damned arthritis makes writing things down so hard and don't even get me started on using a computer. Carpal tunnel is ruining my ability to use my walking frame. If it wasn't for my mobility scooter I'd never make it out to the doctor's.

Owen said...

What a corny story... you're not from Cornwall, are you ? And will be curious to hear how this one did in your blog stats... too bad they can't measure the number of dry heaves provoked...
:-)

Steve said...

Owen: dry heaves don't count. A post is only a success if the reader starts blowing chunks.

Jeneane said...

I did notice you got a few 'pulling' words in at the beginning of this post.

If it's any consolation I thought I was truly crippled by arthritis (ankles) at 42 and have somehow managed to manage it. I can still dance, I can still garden... You will overcome if your zest for Life is strong enough.

I would love to suggest - and maybe Gorilla Bananas would back me up - going barefoot, but you'd probably get the sack.

Löst Jimmy said...

Bunions? Corns? Are you still trying to shamelessly increase your Blog traffic then?
You filthy beast

TimeWarden said...

I detect a deep-rooted concern over your incept date!

Steve said...

Jeneane: more than that I'd probably get impaled on a few rogue nails... which would actually lead to crucifixion imagery and whole load more 'pulling' words for my blog. Hey, thanks for the tip-off!

Löst Jimmy: talking dirty is, apparently, the way to do it.

TimeWarden: I know. And to think I used to look forward to 'retirement'!

Trish @ Mum's Gone To ... said...

You're 42, eh? And I thought you were the answer to life, the universe and everything.

Steve said...

Trish: goodbye and thanks for all the fish.

Keith said...

Ha, these days 40 is the new black. So grab your Ugg boots and partaayy.

Plus Dr. Alice is back on the screen. And you should see the oldies she hangs out with. 500 years plus, some of them. Does she think the less of them for that ? No.

Steve said...

Keith: the new black? Oh God. I don't think I could cope with being a Goth again. As for Dr Alice - yes, watched her programme last night and thoroughly enjoyed it. And you're right - she's not ageist at all. But I suspect the oldies she hangs about with aren't particularly great at wining and dining. Or 69-ing. Sorry. Couldn't resist.

Nana Go-Go said...

I was quite enjoying watch Dr. Alice`s prog last night until I remembered how much you liked (stalking)her and I had this vision of you sitting there licking your telly screen.....put me right off, I can tell ya!
ps Thanks for the very restrained comment - almost made me go all `Sally Field-ish` - did it generate anymore traffic for you?!!ha ha ha

Steve said...

Nana Go-Go: I do not lick my lips when watching Dr Alice. Much. As it happens, when checking my stats, the one post that has suddenly received a lot of hits is one I wrote about Dr Alice wild swimming... so there you go. Am preparing another Dr Alice post ready for Monday.

And I am not licking my lips!

Fran said...

Oh yuk to your Rick Stein comment. Funny but queasy-making.

Steve said...

Fran: much like the menus in Rick Stein's restaurants then.

Being Me said...

Egh, you make growing old sound so attractive... if not a little gnarled. I get to use someone else's teeth? Awesome! I'll stop saving my own now then and just grind them into the ground.

Steve said...

Being Me: think of the fortune you'll save on dentist's bills too!

The Poet Laura-eate said...

We definitely have to work harder to stay fit than a 20-something, that's for sure.

And I have terrible trouble finding shoes I can walk comfortably any distance in, but then womens' shoes are pretty cr*p in that respect anyway! Don't think I have any calluses, but my smaller toes do not seem to be quite as straight as they once were which is annoying.

My devious plan is to become rich before I need any surgery!

Steve said...

Laura: I'm having to face the possibility of maybe seeing a foot specialist... my toes are anything but straight. I think they might need breaking and re-setting. I'm sure I could find loads of willing volunteers who'd help me do that.