When headlights dim, power lags and the exhaust gets noisy

AYEAR or two before I retired from the Daily Dispatch the company sponsored a “Wellness Day” when all staff were encouraged to attend a clinic on the premises and have themselves checked out medically at no cost.

It was a great idea and I didn’t hesitate to be there. After all, maintaining good health should be very close to us all who want to enjoy a long and rewarding life.

It is certainly still part of my agenda and I thank the good Lord for the way I am. But you can’t put it all on His shoulders. One needs to make an input oneself, like doing everything in moderation as my wise old dad used to advise me.

So annual check-ups by the family doctor were observed; the wrinkled old skin was scanned by the friendly dermatologist who froze off offending bits; and if brave enough I’d squeeze in a visit to the dentist as well

Weight at that time was a small problem and when the old body expanded, I did my best to reduce consumption. I was up to 87,5kg at one time, but by eating sensibly managed to drop back to 84.

Wellness Day started with a daunting 20 minutes for me that included an HIV counselling and test. Not that I suspected anything or had been a naughty boy! I just felt it my duty, as a citizen of the country with the highest rate of HIV/Aids in the world, to be tested.

The sister sat me down and asked what I knew about the virus. My knowledge pleased her and she added a few things I hadn’t covered.

Then came the test which involved a drop of my blood being placed on a testing strip.

I watched anxiously as the pink fluid advanced along the strip with three lines to cross. One line showing up would mean all’s well, the others, I’d be facing a serious life-changing moment.

It was tense, but in the end it was relief and I got up and spontaneously hugged the smiling sister. Next day more tests followed. Blood pressure: a relaxing 115/70. Glucose: a normal 5.3. Cholesterol: 4.6 and inside the parameters. Body mass: a ratio of weight over height, and I was declared semi-obese ... just, by one point, and losing 4kg would take me down to “normal”.

For one who was relatively slim the word “obese” did tend to offend a bit, even if it was only “semi”, so I decided to work on it.

More exercise and walks on the beach, I was sure, would help enormously.

I was happy, therefore to proclaim that this vintage car was running fairly well (even if I said so to myself ).

The bodywork might be showing a few dents and scratches and the leather upholstery had a bit of wear.

Also, the engine might not be producing the horsepower it used to, but it still had plenty of life left in it.

Okay, the exhaust system was getting a bit noisy; rattles and squeaks were starting to appear in some joints; and tyres were on the smooth side, but still good for a few more kilometres before a retread.

The only thing to worry about was the computer and electrical system sometimes showing a spot of brain fade.

Perhaps a new memory stick would sort that out?

Oh, and of course, a regular service would do no harm either!

Well, now around 10 years on, all of the above still function although the headlights are dimmer, more baggage has been shed, and some of the engine power has been lost.

That became apparent recently when I bent over to lift a heavy object, only to have the power train across my back seize and send out a searing and painful spasm.

A few days lying on a couch (thankfully there was Test cricket to watch and a good book to read), moving gingerly and knocking back anti-spasm and anti-inflammatory tablets, things were looking up, but not fast enough.

So I contacted my friendly service centre and booked the battered and aging vehicle in for a bit of physiotherapy. That worked, most niggles were ironed out, and I have no doubt the rest will soon be gone entirely.

As for old age: it’s sometimes a serious pain in the butt! –