My Tower of Terror


A number of my friends have been posting vacation pictures from Disneyland the last few weeks. I don’t think a person ever gets too old to visit the happiest place on earth. Although the older we get, the Magic Kingdom isn’t quite so magical if we’re the one paying! By the end of your visit it feels more like the most expensive place on earth. Yikes!

Theme parks are fun, nonetheless, as evidenced by all the Facebook pictures I’ve seen. In a recent Facebook post, a friend boasted of her repeated Tower of Terror accomplishments. She loved the exhilaration she felt trying to swallow past the lump in her throat coupled with weak knees and shaky limbs as she exited the ride. She’s not a daredevil by nature and confessed she wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or to cry.

Since I entered my 50s, I pretty much get all those feelings when I wake every morning and get out of bed. I never know if I want to laugh or cry as I shuffle to the bathroom with my bum back, arthritic hips and knees and this leaky bladder that’s being pulled down by Father Time which sadly enough — doesn’t know the meaning of the word ‘wait.’  Boy that’s living on the edge!

I get that same Tower of Terror feeling whenever I wait in a long bathroom line only to discover there’s no seat covers or purse hook once I enter a stall. My legs begin to shake as hover dangerously six inches over the seat while biting down on the purse strap in my mouth like I’m some sort of human Jaws of Life.   (That hovering thing … not so easy for the aged, especially if you’re multi-tasking with the Jaws of Life thing.)

If that wasn’t challenging enough, public restroom adventures strike fear in my heart as I now have to be on the lookout not only for doody parasites and hidden cameras but now something so sinister it causes a severe rise in my blood pressure: the dreaded toilet spiders lying in wait to attack me in my exposed nether regions. Is there anything more terrifying than nether region toilet spiders?

Terror isn’t lurking only in public restrooms. Horror can be had each time I turn on my make-up mirror and scrutinize my 50-plus-year-old face magnified to 10 times its normal size. I get that flying-off-the-edge-of-a-coaster-plummeting-to-my-doom sensation while inspecting my enlarged pores, broken capillaries, wrinkles, liver spots that used to be freckles and the corona of white hair along my scalp line that requires artificial coloring every four weeks. A woman needs to have a strong constitution for that kind of spine-tingling adventure.

I do love Disneyland, but if I don’t get there this year I’ve got enough riotous living going on at home to make it through. As I get older I’m learning that every day is an adventure that should be lived to the fullest and without the benefit of a Fast Past. After a certain age there’s no need to hurry Father Time; he marches across the human body faster than a senior citizen can whip out a two-for-one coupon at an all-you-can-eat Sunday lunch buffet.

As we age the happiest place on earth for any senior will always be the front of any line and the back of the line might just become a Tower of Terror if we’re forced to wait – especially for those available bathroom stalls. While we are waiting though, the best advice is to laugh it up and keep looking up as our help comes from the Lord! (Psalm 121:2)

It is bad to suppress laughter. It goes back down to your hips. ~Author Unknown

Happy reading …
Blessings in Christ,
Kathy K.