Entropy

Here’s the definition that best fits what I have to say on this subject: "gradual decline into disorder.” That’s old age.

Dick recently sent me a link about Phillip Roth, who has been obsessed with the subject of death for many years. His obsession apparently is growing. In his last book, Sabbath’s Theater, he quotes Kafka, “The meaning of life is death.”

That’s entropy for you. Every living thing is headed there by degrees. For humans, it always comes as a surprise because we have an in-born sense that we’re immortal. Then comes the moment when we realize we aren’t what we used to be.

For me, that realization came when I was teaching at Baker University and decided to participate in the women’s basketball class for fun and exercise. I was forty years old but had always been active, riding a bike and playing racquetball. I was ready. The first practice wasn’t bad, nor the second, but in the third practice we started actually playing a game. Those college girls moved fast and trying to keep up with them I pulled a thigh muscle. It was my “Ah-ha” moment.

In the thirty-seven ensuing years I’ve lost far more than the ability to run with 20-year olds. The trunk of my body has shrunk by 2¾ inches, while my long legs have stayed the same, making it difficult for me to reach my feet. My hands, feet and shoulders are wrecked by arthritis and my wrists are fused. I’ll probably never recover fully from the fall I took into the chicken yard last May; backaches plague me.

But here’s the thing: I’m not as far gone as the leaves in the photo above. I’m still capable of walking some and gardening a little and cooking a lot. So, like many other old people, I’ll keep doing what I can and testing my limits and maybe not hurting myself in the process. The specter of nursing home care is a strong motivator.

As Yogi Berra famously said, “It ain’t over until it’s over.”

Copyright 2013 by Shirley Domer