This morning as I sat in the doctor’s waiting room, I looked around at my fellow patients and wondered who these people were. They looked old, worn out, and a lot like the old people I knew growing up, a generation I frequently dismissed as a “bunch of old guys” with whom I had little or nothing in common.
When I got home I looked in the mirror and saw the same person I had always seen, a young, if not handsome, virile man who was active and fit, still tossing down beers with the boys and living the good life. All a far cry from what I saw and overheard in my cardiologist’s office. There I watched as patients gingerly made their way about with canes and walkers and shared stories about their health problems.
The truth is that I spend an inordinate amount of time visiting doctors, keeping up with prescription drugs and dealing with health problems. I have a virtual stable of “ologists,” in addition to my cardiologist, including my nephrologist, my urologist, and my oncologist. I have lost my quick step and can’t hear well, much to the aggravation of my friends and my wife who claims I just don’t listen to her.
I guess the problem is that I turned 85 this past July.
*The Spanish have a saying (a dicho) that seems appropriate
“No Te Preocupes
Tanto Por La Vida
Pues No Saldras
Vivo De Ella”
which roughly translated means “Don’t worry so much about life because no one gets out of it alive.”
Very funny, my OLD friend.