Narrative Essay: The Battle of Old Age

      I have recently read about an area of the former Soviet Union where many people live to be well over a hundred years. Being 115 or even 125 isn’t considered unusual there, and these old people continue to do productive work right until they die. The United States, however, isn’t such a healthy place for older people. Since I retired from my job, I’ve had to contend with the physical and mental stresses of being “old.” 

For one thing, I’ve had to adjust to physical changes. Now that I’m over sixty, the trusty body that carried me around for years has turned traitor. Apart from the deepening wrinkles on my face and neck and the wiry gray hairs that have replaced my brown hair, I face more frightening changes. I don’t have the energy I used to. My eyes get tired. Occasionally, I miss something that was said to me. My once faithful feet seem to have lost their comfortable soles, and I sometimes feel I’m walking on marbles. To fight against this slow decay, I exercise whenever I can. I walk, stretch and climb stairs. I battle constantly to keep as fit as possible. 

Moreover, I’m trying to cope with mental changes. My mind was once as quick and sure as a champion gymnast. I never found it difficult to memorize answers in school or to remember the names of people I met. Now, occasionally have to search my mind for the name of a close neighbor or favorite television show. Because my mind needs exercise, too, I challenge it as much as I can. Taking a college course like this English class, for example, forces me to concentrate. This mental gymnast maybe a little slow and out of shape, but he can still do a back flip or turn a somersault when he has to. 

Surviving with the changes of old age has become my latest full-time job. Even though it is a job I never applied for and one for which I had no experience, I am trying to do the best I can. 

Narrative Essay: The Power of a Shoulder

Man has been showered with blessings; he has been given a heart to live, a brain to think, and most importantly a shoulder to rely on. The shoulder holds the head of a beloved one during hardships. It is the source of solace, comfort and relief. However, life turns into a battlefield when he has no shoulder to cry on. 

Hope Daniel, a fifty-year-old cancer warrior, suffered far beyond breast cancer. She was first diagnosed with stage two cancer during her early forties. Her husband passed away after being drafted for compulsory service in Iraq. Hope and her two twin daughters had a hard time moving on with their life. Eventually, the two girls traveled to London to pursue their education. Hope was left alone except for her girls’ once-in-a month visit. However, Hope was a fighter. She went through chemotherapy and had her tumor removed. Despite her recovery Hope felt as an outcast. So she befriended the pen. She wrote poems expressing the torture she was living through due to the lack of family relations. Her life, feelings and emotions were a wreck.

After Hope’s monthly scan, it turned out that her cancer was back. Her condition worsened to an extent that she had to be hospitalized. She had no one to confide to except for the regular attending nurse. Hope opened up to her; she told her about her life-long struggle with cancer and her battle for life. Nurse Angela was the only individual Hope had talked to for quite a while. Tears of torture, loneliness and grief filled Hope’s violet eyes. Angela also saw how reluctantly distant Hope was from her daughters. She realized that hope never had the guts to call her daughters, afraid that they might find out about her deteriorating condition. Instead, Nurse Angela made the call that changed Hope’s life for the best. Hope’s daughters came back to live with her and made their mother live the five most joyful years of her life. 

Everyone reaches rock bottom some time in his/her life; only the wise finds the means to get up and move on with the help of others who care. After all, everyone needs a shoulder to cry on, not only in times of distress but also during times of joy.