I will mention only a few of the vast army responsible for keeping me going these days. NOT to say that they all aren't vitally important, but there is not enough air space on the WWW to transmit the entire list.
Since I just made the regular --every five week visit to my hair stylist--let's start with him. Bless his heart---it's not easy to work with the feathers I have that supposedly are hair. The new Ruston stylist was so excited when I told him, "Do whatever you want" on my first visit. I didn't have the heart to tell him no matter what you want---it's not going to do it. I believe before that first visit was over he was muttering under his breath about the back of my hair growing the wrong way and how would he ever get it to stay down. Poor man--I am his biggest challenge. Somehow he keeps me looking half way decent--unless you catch me just out of the bed. That's another subject!
And then there's the man who is responsible for making sure I can still get myself out of the bed without crawling, able to tie my own shoes, walking without dragging my leg behind me, and in general moving--mostly in forward motion. I saw him about a week ago and I walked out his door with a thinly veiled threat of what was coming next visit if I didn't incorporate some psoais stretches into my stretch routine. He has obviously confused me with someone who has a regular stretch routine. The only routine I have is routinely complaining about my latest ache or pain. I will give him credit, he does keep me going. Maintenance is the key, My Friends---routine maintenance.
We mustn't leave out my aerobics instructor. She is responsible for keeping me reasonably fit and in some semblance of shape. Bless her perky little heart! The course has mention of body sculpting in the description. If this body is sculpted, I hate to think what the sculpture would be named--
Crumbling comes to mind. She is at the front of the class jumping all around and flinging weights around like they are match sticks and I am on the back row grumbling with a side of moaning and groaning. She has her work cut out when it comes to sculpting this relic.
Though the list is long, I will once again have mercy on you and end with my doctor--or should I say doctors. The cardinal rule is one doctor always leads to another--so avoid them if at all possible. The thing about Medicare and all its glory is they require you to have a primary care doctor. Turns out I am obviously more than she can handle, because she keeps sending me to other doctors. The only doctor she has not sent me to is perhaps the one I need the most---because I am pretty sure I am a brick short of a load--one twist short of a slinky--have only one oar in the water. My mental health can be questionable on the best day. My favorite in this elite group of highly educated body mechanics is the GI doc. SURELY with all we know and the advances in medical science there is some way OTHER than a colonoscopy to look at my insides! I want to stay healthy, but would prefer to do so without the aid of all these wonderful docs and without taking any medication. Is that TOO MUCH to ask??
Getting old is NOT for the faint of heart! BUT with regular maintenance by a highly trained maintenance crew--I seem to be continuing to have birthdays. Ask ANY car salesman and he will tell you--with regular maintenance it should be good for the rest of your life.