There’s a consistent truth to life that eventually, we all get older. I never got it or understood it when I was younger. My parents felt old to me when they were almost twenty years younger than I am now. I never understood all the jokes and memes about how waking up in the morning was like the sound of a thousand mouse traps. But I swear that my joints are the reason why mice stay the fuck away from our house in the winter. A little touch of cold and all of a sudden I have to rock back and forth a dozen times to roll myself out of bed. But I digress…
I’ve always prided myself on maintaining my health as best I could. Getting the basic equivalent of a death sentence from my doctors at the tender age of 10-years old woke me up in a way that most adults wouldn’t appreciate, at the time. I started training in the martial arts, taking control of my food and make conscious choices about my health and my future. Having been educated on all the complications Type-1 Diabetes can bring, I refused to become part of the overall statistic. There was no fuckin’ way in hell anyone was going to amputate one of my limbs. losing my eyesight or having a heart attack also didn’t sound too appealing.
I’ve had the benefit of navigating the rough seas of Diabetes with a certain amount of pride. And zeal, I guess. Given my increased level of fitness, proper diet and attention to my condition has allowed me the benefit of reaching my current age with all my limbs and organs intact, a clean nervous system and essentially no complications after over four decades of dealing with Type-1. In my early twenties, I travelled to Japan and subsequently, Okinawa. I soon after passed my first degree black belt. I became a teacher of others. I excelled in every job I ever held. Despite all odds and opposition, I graduated from the RCMP Training Academy in Regina, Saskatchewan and became a Mountie. Despite what some may say and mistakes I’ve made, I have a story to tell…
Despite how hard I’ve worked and how many obstacles I’ve faced, time is beginning to show me that I need to slow down. I don’t move quite as quickly as I did years ago, which was premised by the broken rib I suffered last April from a punch I should have easily blocked. Getting out of bed, even after a full eight hours of sleep, has become more difficult. Getting through the day without increased amounts of caffeine (or a nap, if its the weekend) is becoming more and more difficult. I worry about things like cholesterol and blood pressure now, and have prescribed “preventative” pills for both. Apparently, that’s a good idea if you’re above the age of 30 and have Type-1 Diabetes.
If you would have told me, twenty years ago, that I would have to constantly check and worry about my blood pressure, I would have told you to, as the French would say, go fuck yourself. But believe it or not, here I am! Taking preventative measures for my health and slowing down, as time is wont to do. But slowing down doesn’t mean stopping. As I’ve always said, life brings movement. Movement brings energy. Energy brings life. If there’s one thing I can guarantee, it’s that I’ve never done anything less than 100% and I don’t intend to stop, creaky joints and all… ☯️
3 thoughts on “Even The Finest Armour Can Rust…”
Unless it’s Beskar. Mandalorian armor doesn’t rust. 😀 😀
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Damn, you got me! Quite right!
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Good post though. 🙂