A funny thing about turning 65: The universe starts telling you to "watch your step."
Every time I go to a new doctor, they hand me a checklist that includes a questions about my stability. Not my mental stability, but my actual, physical stability. "Do you fall often?" the survey asks, or "Do you have a fear of falling?"
I can no longer in good conscience answer "no" to that question. (I'm not sure what happens if you answer "yes." Maybe they bring you a walker and football helmet. I guess I'll soon find out.)
It seems that turning 65 triggered these questionnaires. Maybe that's the "tipping point." Ha, a little broken-hip humor.
I read recently where a doctor said people should totally stop drinking alcohol at age 65. Not because it's bad for your gut but because it makes you more prone to busting your tush. If one drink puts you on the floor, I'd say skipping the sauce is indeed a good idea. I always assumed they had cocktail hour at nursing homes, but maybe not.
Twice in the past couple of weeks, I've taken a spill. The first time, I got tangled in leashes while walking our two dogs and hit the pavement. The other time, I fell on my backside trying to walk on an ice-covered sidewalk.
Thankfully, the only thing that got hurt was my feelings.
(READ MORE: Falls can destroy seniors' self-confidence)
Before these episodes, I only remember falling down involuntarily twice. Once was a couple of years ago when I had pneumonia and fainted in the kitchen. The other time was when I was 11 and tried to show my mom how long I could hold my breath. While holding my breath for a really long time, I fainted and sat down hard on a red-hot space heater — which woke me up instantly.
Thankfully, I'm in decent shape. I usually walk 2 or 3 miles a day, and I'm not overweight. Still, I think that not injuring myself on these recent falls is just a matter of good luck — or God looking out for me.
(READ MORE: Fighting falls: Simple steps may prevent injuries)
Falling for cause — ice, twisted dog leashes, etc. — doesn't bother me. It's the times when I just feel a little wobbly for no reason that sounds an alarm.
My maternal grandmother, Mabel Whiteside, bless her soul, used to complain of having "swim head" — which was some kind of weird Southern slang for vertigo. Maybe I've got the "swim head," although I can't bring myself to use those words with a physician.
"Any dizziness?" the nurse always asks at the beginning of my doctor's visits.
"No, but I've got the swim head," I could reply.
Nope, not saying that.
I really feel like the snow and ice storm we had earlier this month was a signal to me that I need to be more careful. I pride myself in walking our dogs religiously. Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night keeps me from taking our Cavapoos out for their daily sniff-and-stroll session.
But walking two dogs at once on solid ice is probably not a good idea. Our sturdy 17-year-old son fell twice on the patio during the ice episode, and he was just walking to his truck.
Stepping carefully is not a descent into frailty. It's just a prudent recognition of the new realities of being a junior senior — my term for advanced middle age.
Maybe I'll just let the dogs run around the backyard while I have a glass of wine.
While remaining seated, of course.
Contact Mark Kennedy at mkennedy@timesfreepress.com or 423-757-6645.