Talking with Paul Strickland. Both of us observing a paradoxical experience of growing old. Forgetting that who we are is not who we used to be. Especially physically.

A task may come up. Say, cleaning leaves out of a gutter. Perhaps moving a tree fallen on the hiking trail. Oh, sure. I can do that. Did it lots of time. I hope your inner old person speaks up. Right then. No ladders. No. Test your leverage with with the tree. Any twinges? Stop.

We both agreed. We check ourselves when those situations arise. Uh huh.

Take a for instance. Yesterday I had a blood draw. Nearby. Over on Stagecoach. Ruby was here awaiting finalization of a deal with Robin. A close by, ten minute appointment. Oh sure. I can do that.

I had decided a week ago that I could handle it. Don’t have to get a ride. Easy.

First obstacle. My cane and I headed outside and down the slope to the parking lot. Not level, like everything inside. Oh. Required careful balance. I managed it, got to Ruby, and let my attention wander from my feet to the car’s interior.

Still on a slope. Suddenly my left shoulder hit the blessedly soft grass and Mother Earth. Oh, sure. Done it lots of times. Took a while to get back on my feet, but I managed it.

Then. Should I go through with this? What if I fell on the asphalt. As you might imagine, I chose the obvious. Drove myself to the blood draw. Got in and out ok. Found a parking spot near Elk Run’s entrance, got out. Signed back in and flopped in a  lounge chair to regather my energy.

Last time I’ll drive. Went well under the speed limit, driving like an old person. I was not safe and neither were others. A poor choice.

Left the lobby and got back home. 308 is in his bed.