Yes, I have lost ground. I knew that I was losing ground in Paris and I expected to lose ground even before I left for Paris. I expected it to be worse in fact. Nonetheless, while in Paris I blamed my losses on the sloping uneven streets and on missing my exercise routine at the Y. I consoled myself that, seated before guests in my apartment, I was as good as ever. I could sit and chat for hours. I could navigate around my narrow kitchenette to make tea or open wine for my guests. Pas de problème.
Now, back at home, the contrast is stark. It’s all I can do to lurch between one external support, one wall or piece of furniture, to another. Since my calf muscles are almost inoperative, I list backwards. Like a bicycle, I stay upright better with a forward motion. But the bicycle of my body is disjointed. I lurch forward and slam my numb feet down one after another. Yesterday in the night, I managed to get out of bed to cross the hall to the bathroom. But in the morning, after what seemed like a restful sleep, I didn’t have the strength to hoist myself out of bed. When I finally managed, I lost control of my bladder on the way to the toilet and had to change my underwear and pants. I’ve never done that before. It was disquieting. My wife is showing great foresight and kindness. I’m very concerned that I not impose on her more than necessary. She needs her routine and her diversion.
Should I even write the following? I’ve known for a long time that my wife is becoming more stylish and more beautiful than ever before. Just now she was down wiping the dining room floor on all fours. She wore white panties under her loose night gown, and with her backside toward me I was reminded that she is one of the rare woman who almost get sexier with age. I’m in no condition to perform as a husband. I’m only grateful that she chose me and that we were happy in every way for so many years. I now realize an added benefit if I die sooner rather than later. She is eighteen years younger than me. It will be easier for her to find a younger man who can give her beauty its due. Is it perverse or degrading that I’m not bothered by jealousy. Why should I be? It’s in today’s generation of insecure, entitled males that masculinity is so easily threatened that they invented the bizarre and hideous term “cuck.” It betrays their own deep insecurities, like the “incels” who proudly advertise their entitled self-pity, repulsive to women and men alike.
I suspect that my weakness in my first week after Paris was due to a cold. It was easier this morning to get out of bed. I plan to go to the Y soon.
Signed,
Andrew (Weeks)
Normal Thoughts 