I turned 40 a couple of months ago, and while it remains debatable as to whether I’m engrossed and tangled in any sort of midlife crisis, one thing remains undeniably clear – I need to get a physical. I want to be around for a whole lotta years, so I can watch K-Man celebrate major milestones and experience “those moments.” And, in order to make sure that happens…a call to Dr. Jellyfingers must be made.
The physical at 40 is one of those “man-milestones” that we start hearing about in our early 30s. We have friends who start turning 40 and they start talking. We hear about the full slate of tests – from the stress tests to the cholesterol tests to the…well, “that test.”
Any dude in my generation (and many of those who have followed) can quote (verbatim) lines from the movie, “Fletch.” In fact, most of us can likely perform a one-man re-enactment of the entire movie. This, of course, includes the scene when Fletch visits his doctor (that hauntingly goes a little something like this):
Doctor: Bend over and drop your pants
Fletch: Say, you know, my kidneys feel a lot better in this position – maybe it's just that I'm not doing any calisthenics.
Doctor: Just relax.
Fletch: You know, if I did some sit-ups in the morning, or bent over like this I'd probably feel 100% bett... (starts singing) Moooooon Riverrrrrr…
Doctor: Breathe easy.
Fletch: You got the whole fist up there, Doc?
Doctor: You can pull your pants up now. I don’t see anything wrong with you.
Fletch: I’m sure it’s not for lack of trying. Thanks a lot, doc. You ever serve time?"
While the movie may be one of the classics of all time (admittedly, perhaps just for guys), and while that scene is one of the best in a movie filled with gems, as my day in the doctor’s office approaches – it’s less funny and now just kind of haunting.
I’m not a complete idiot (also debatable); I know the physical is something that I must do. I know how important it is to get all the parts checked – including a bunch of parts that haven’t ever really been checked. That’s the point. Regardless of how young (and immature?) I feel, my body still has 40 years on it. (And, due to some friendly abuses – perhaps it’s even got a few extra years on it.) I need this physical.
So, I figure it’s time to start training. (Geez…talk about burying the lede.)
If I have to go in there and get poked, prodded and probed like a piece of meat – well, I’m going to do it in as close to rock-solid shape as I can get. I’m going to eat better, hit the weights, step up the pace of the walks with Harley and, most importantly, do more K-Man curls and K-Man ups. (The kid is 30+ pounds of absolute dead weight – might as well put him to work toning the biceps and pecs, right?) Most importantly, though, I think I’ll work on my rendition of “Moon River.” (Insert your favorite deity here) knows – when that (hopefully very lubricated glove) hits home, reciting Fletch may very well be my best defense.
When it’s all over, though, I’ll have the knowledge that I’m healthy and will be around for things like K-Man’s elementary school graduation, soccer games, first date, prom and so on. I want to be around to help him prepare for his SAT and take him on his college tours. And, if having some stranger in a white coat violate me with G-d knows what is my ticket to entry to each of these events…so be it. I’m happy to take that one (two, three, four or more fingers) for the team. (Don’t start on the colonoscopy, though. Have a few more years to prepare for that. Damn.)
Oh, my bowl of oatmeal is ready. Let the training begin.
The physical at 40 is one of those “man-milestones” that we start hearing about in our early 30s. We have friends who start turning 40 and they start talking. We hear about the full slate of tests – from the stress tests to the cholesterol tests to the…well, “that test.”
Any dude in my generation (and many of those who have followed) can quote (verbatim) lines from the movie, “Fletch.” In fact, most of us can likely perform a one-man re-enactment of the entire movie. This, of course, includes the scene when Fletch visits his doctor (that hauntingly goes a little something like this):
Doctor: Bend over and drop your pants
Fletch: Say, you know, my kidneys feel a lot better in this position – maybe it's just that I'm not doing any calisthenics.
Doctor: Just relax.
Fletch: You know, if I did some sit-ups in the morning, or bent over like this I'd probably feel 100% bett... (starts singing) Moooooon Riverrrrrr…
Doctor: Breathe easy.
Fletch: You got the whole fist up there, Doc?
Doctor: You can pull your pants up now. I don’t see anything wrong with you.
Fletch: I’m sure it’s not for lack of trying. Thanks a lot, doc. You ever serve time?"
While the movie may be one of the classics of all time (admittedly, perhaps just for guys), and while that scene is one of the best in a movie filled with gems, as my day in the doctor’s office approaches – it’s less funny and now just kind of haunting.
I’m not a complete idiot (also debatable); I know the physical is something that I must do. I know how important it is to get all the parts checked – including a bunch of parts that haven’t ever really been checked. That’s the point. Regardless of how young (and immature?) I feel, my body still has 40 years on it. (And, due to some friendly abuses – perhaps it’s even got a few extra years on it.) I need this physical.
So, I figure it’s time to start training. (Geez…talk about burying the lede.)
If I have to go in there and get poked, prodded and probed like a piece of meat – well, I’m going to do it in as close to rock-solid shape as I can get. I’m going to eat better, hit the weights, step up the pace of the walks with Harley and, most importantly, do more K-Man curls and K-Man ups. (The kid is 30+ pounds of absolute dead weight – might as well put him to work toning the biceps and pecs, right?) Most importantly, though, I think I’ll work on my rendition of “Moon River.” (Insert your favorite deity here) knows – when that (hopefully very lubricated glove) hits home, reciting Fletch may very well be my best defense.
When it’s all over, though, I’ll have the knowledge that I’m healthy and will be around for things like K-Man’s elementary school graduation, soccer games, first date, prom and so on. I want to be around to help him prepare for his SAT and take him on his college tours. And, if having some stranger in a white coat violate me with G-d knows what is my ticket to entry to each of these events…so be it. I’m happy to take that one (two, three, four or more fingers) for the team. (Don’t start on the colonoscopy, though. Have a few more years to prepare for that. Damn.)
Oh, my bowl of oatmeal is ready. Let the training begin.
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