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My pulse is weak and my blood is thin,
but I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
I think my liver is out of whack
and a terrible pain is in my back.
My hearing is poor, my sight is dim
most everything seems to be out of trim,
but I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
I have arch supports for both my feet.
or I wouldn't be able to go on the street.
Sleeplessness I have night after night,
and in the morning I'm such a sight,
my memory is failing, my heads in a spin,
I'm peacefully living on aspirin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
The moral is, as this tale will unfold,
that for you and me who are growing old,
It's better to say, I'm fine with a grin,
than to let them know the shape we're in.
My dad sang this to his dad as he dressed him, shaved him, bathed him. They would laugh and giggle. I sing this song to my dad now every day when I bathe him and brush his hair. I tickle him behind his knees when I pull up his socks just like he did with his dad and before we know it he is dressed and ready to go for our daily shuffle down to the mail box or to a doctors appointment. I remind him that not just him but all of us are growing old and we can laugh about it, kid about it but only in my room alone do I cry about it. My children are learning this little song. I don't know where it came from. All I know is he sometimes finds the words to sign thank you and if I don't sing it when we are getting ready he makes sure that I do.
It takes away the sting for both of us. It has become our mantra, if you will.