Stamina

By Sally Franz

I think dying is like running a major marathon. After you cross that ribbon at the finish line you receive a standing ovation and cheers from the crowd. But some of us like to walk another lap or two to wind down. I prefer the idea of sliding into home base screaming YeeHaw! But to quote Frost, “knowing how way leads on to way” I am quite sure I will be on the other road where I dwindle and smolder like a wet log not at all like a firecracker in the end. In fact, I know that is true because I am already feeling like I am taking the Victory Lap. Also, because the women in my family have what we call stamina. Which is like being called big-boned when you are a chubby middle-schooler.

I am reminded of that last lap every time I feel a twinge, an ache or a searing pain in a body that used to feel no pain. Along with the fear that this is the beginning of the end. I wonder about how much help modern medicine has really been. Do I have even more stamina or less? It seems I am walking around in a decaying body but still very much alive inside (thanks to a plethora of meds). The warranty on this body went out at fifty-four years of age (with the onset of Transverse Myelitis) and though I get replacement parts and energy boosts (aka coffee), I know my road-worthy days are numbered. All too soon my model will be shelved and they will not carry parts for my vintage.

We live in a remarkable age, where many Boomers are walking embodiments of Lee Majors, “The Six Million Dollar Man”. New joints, hips, hearts, corneas and kidneys are letting us live longer. The key is to make sure that it is a better quality of life. No use “stayin alive, stayin alive” if you can’t dance.

This has all come to mind because I’ve just returned from visiting my aunt who is dying at age 94. They have given her 10 days to live. Which, knowing the women in my family, could turn out to be 10 more months. Women in my family live well into their 90s and some beyond. Albeit we may lose a few marbles along the marathon of life but we are strong as oxen. (See big-boned reference above.) We are as massively stubborn to take leave of this world as a wad of bubble gum in the long hair of a small child. Women in my family want to stick around to see what the next generation can do. We create family, we like family. We like including others into our family either by marriage or just fun neighbors who our kids start calling Aunt and Uncle. Call it stamina or stubbornness, it amounts to the same thing.

And while most of my family are strong believers in the afterlife (certain we will see our dearly departed on the other side) that doesn’t mean we want to join them a minute before it is necessary. I want to stay in life’s theater and watch the rolling credits. I’d like to wait to the bitter end for the teaser segment that gives me a clue as to the sequel. Then I’ll take up my empty popcorn bucket and head toward the door.

For me stamina is as much about the last lap…petering out, spitting and gasping on the final fumes of life…. as it is in all the accomplishments and hitting those grand slams. From sizzle to fizzle, stamina is staying the course.

Sally Franz and her third husband live on the Olympic Peninsula. She has two daughters, a stepson, and three grandchildren. Sally is the author of several humor books including Scrambled Leggs: A Snarky Tale of Hospital Hooey and The Baby Boomer’s Guide to Menopause. She hosts a local radio humor segment, “Baby Boomer Humor with Sassy Sally”.