A friend of some years said to me recently, \u2018you always look the same\u2019. Perhaps he meant to be kind, but certainly wasn\u2019t telling the truth. I\u2019ve been conscious for some time that when I look in the mirror I see not my own, but my father\u2019s face. I don\u2019t really mind looking like my father. He was a good and dear man, but it\u2019s still a shock to find him looking at me from the mirror when I brush my teeth or shave in the morning. This surprise of some years was merely a prelude to the slow realisation that my body, if not in a state of total collapse, is affected by an inevitable but unwelcome series of changes that mean, whilst still supposedly it is me, it feels like I am someone else.<\/p>\n
It would be very boring for anyone reading this, if I was to give a detailed rundown of the various signs of my physical alteration, so I won\u2019t. For older people it would be a reminder of something perhaps better forgotten, and for those who can still be called young, a prospect they would prefer not to entertain. However, the fact of major changes in one\u2019s appearance and the inability to function in ways that would once be regarded as normal, is one of the consequences of the ageing process. \u2018Normal\u2019 in fact now becomes \u2018different\u2019, and just a few examples will suffice.<\/p>\n
Here\u2019s one that shows a general fumbling of hands. Reading the morning newspaper was once a straight forward exercise, but now I find the pages keep on getting in the wrong order and some of the daily reading process is taken up by rearranging them in sequence. But feet too have developed a habit of not doing quite what is expected of them; balance can be a challenge, especially when mounting or leaving our local buses, one of which should have been sent to the scrap yard years ago. Clumsily wielding a hammer the other day, I missed the target and hit my hand. Immediately a bruise appeared and spread; a bluish red mark remains. I also find our car is less manageable than it used to be. Parking, once a relatively simple procedure is now a complication.<\/p>\n
Mind is body of course, and mental debility is another sign that my body may have been displaced by someone else\u2019s. Never the world\u2019s genius as far as precision of thought and depth of intellect are concerned, there can now be a long gap in conversation as I search for the word I want to say, only arriving at it often after several false starts or near misses.<\/p>\n
Confusion is compounded by the advice I am given about what diets I should conform to, so as to ameliorate my various aliments or conditions. They don\u2019t agree. Fruit is good for one of them, not to be encouraged for another. Brown bread for one, white for the other. They all agree however- more\u2019s the pity – that chocolate is not a good idea for any. <\/p>\n
It is my body, I\u2019m afraid, but it will continue to be a stranger.<\/p>\n
Bryan<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
A friend of some years said to me recently, \u2018you always look the same\u2019. Perhaps he meant to be kind, but certainly wasn\u2019t telling the truth. I\u2019ve been conscious for some time that when I look in the mirror I see not my own, but my father\u2019s face. I don\u2019t really mind looking like my father. He was a good and dear man, but it\u2019s still a shock to find him looking at me from the mirror when I brush my teeth or shave in the morning. This surprise of some years was merely a prelude to the slow realisation <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-716","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-general"],"yoast_head":"\n