Elderly Infirmiries

When I talk to old people they usually tell me about their aches and pains or latest medical happenings. This is predictable, but is neithera required subject required nor unique to them. I think it comes from two things: one, they've gotten over the youthful obsession with genitals and worrying about love, and, two, the balance has begun tipping in favor of "flesh is weak" portion of the argument.

In my youth there was never any of that. Not only was I was indestructable and considered mortality to be an academic issue, everything I could conceive of was something I could do. Oh, sure, I'd get winded, tired, or sore, my muscles would and could ache, but my flesh was eager and willing to carry out anything my spirit devised.

This morning my toe hurt again. It's been doing that the past month or so. The bone in there has been feeling as if it had been replaced by a sharp piece of very hot metal. Very distracting. I took the liberty of scrunching up my toe, cracking the joint, and the pain dissipated.

That's when I realized that it had been performing a valuable service: keeping my mind off my toothache.

I suppose I could find a name for what's going on with it, but that would solve nothing. I don't know, it might be an arthritis thing, or bursitis, or some other such well-known name, but finding that out is a waste of time. Learning the label for the ailment does nothing to resolve the pain, but I guess it gives some people a vague sense of undeserved satisfaction. I *think* I know more about something if I have a name for it, but I really don't.