It’s better than the alternative. Let’s get that out of the way right now.
Which doesn’t mean that periodically you can get a reminder that those higher numbers on the age scale don’t suggest eternal youth or that health issues are not going to really mess with you day now and then.
When I got a "real job" back in January it came with health coverage. So I went to get checked out. Let’s see…
- High blood pressure. Not helped by having a job that leaves me precious little room for a life.
- Early-stage emphysema. I’m happy it’s not lung cancer. I smoked for 45 years.
- High cholesterol. Big news. I’m amazed they haven’t had to roto-rooter my veins yet.
- Diabetes. My family tradition along with manic-depression and incipient or real alcoholism. So now I’m taking a new medication for that.
I recall that when my mother got old, she was a walking pharmacy. The doctor’s main job was working the drug balancing act. Ultimately, of course, she died. Presumably that is what happens to all of us sooner or later. But I can see now, maybe for the first time, that getting there is really not half the fun.
I get a choice? Yes. I choose to stick around, not because I’m some big optimist but because I’m not Jesus, raised from the dead. For me as for the rest of us, being dead is so damn final.