As I get older (and older) the dialogues in my life have
changed. It is interesting and a bit amusing, in a black humor sort of way.
Several times someone has said, “You’re looking pretty good‑‑for someone your
age!” Meaning if I were younger they might be concerned? I can opt out of jury
duty because I qualify as too old. Some of my friends have been told they’re
too old to drive (they’ll have to pry my keys out of my cold dead hands).
Recently my Doctor became concerned that my heart rate was
too slow (as a lifelong runner my heart rate has always been slow—in the 40s
and 50s). Turns out a low heart rate can be a concern for old geezers. I’m
often too cold (takes a long time to warm up), too hot (hot flashes), too tired
(fall asleep
Then there are those extreme “trigger” words that all of us
cancer survivors dread to hear in any form: terminal, incurable, late stage,
life threatening, inoperable, off the charts, etc. The older you are, the worse
they sound.
More than once I have redefined what I mean by “a good quality
of life.” When I was 40 it meant everything worked at 100%. At 60 maybe 80% was
OK—a few aches and pains. Now, in my 70s, my requirements for “a good quality
of life” are less stringent. If I can stand up, get dressed, eat, lift a glass
of wine to my lips, walk (albeit slowly), drive a car (at least for now), and
remember who I am and approximately what day it is (most of the time) it is a
good day!
Trying to focus on what I can do and not what I can’t do is
a challenge, but worth the effort when it works. A fading memory is an asset in
this endeavor.
axman
