IT IS WHAT IT IS: A VIETNAM VETERAN’S REFLECTIONS ON AGING

I fell yesterday. I got up from the chair, lost my footing, and went down — dropping to the left side of the desk. Nothing to hit, nothing to break. But when I twisted, the pain came — the one from Vietnam. I knew it would, even before I hit the carpet. That knee of mine, it’s been a long time, but I still remember it all. Fifty-five years ago, I took that wound, and it still burns when I move wrong.

Back then, after the war, it was hard. PTSD, injuries everywhere — head, back, shoulders, legs. You name it. And the infections, they came too. Vietnam left its mark. But with time, the meds, the therapy, the pain pills — they took the edge off. Never enough to make it go away, but enough so I could live.

When the kids were small, I’d bend down to pick them up, and my shoulder would pop out of place. I never took to sports after that. There was too much risk to my legs, and I wasn’t about to hurt my head again. You can ask anyone who knows me. I’m not a genius, but I know how to keep going. Never let the pain stop me. Never let anything stop me. I took my kids where I could and kept pushing on with work.

But this morning, when I fell, it was different. The memory of that wound hit me right away. It’s like it happened yesterday. Maybe that’s the worst part of it. I can still see the jungle, hear the…