How Much is a Long Time?

Time, it seems, is not equal for everybody

Another year is almost gone and I didn’t get it all done, again. My prostate cancer decided to ignore my hormone therapy and my new meds decided to give me more and different side effects. And I noticed somewhere along the way that I’m not 39 any more.

We start most years, the declining years that is, making at least an informal list of the things we want to do for the next 12 months. This always assumes that we’ll stay healthy, no project will take longer than planned, and nothing will cost more than budgeted. You’d think we’d learn, but we’re kind of stuck in that ‘old dog, new tricks’ thing. We’re not likely to change our plans and expectations willingly.

It’s been a great year, we’re mostly as healthy as we were at this time last year, and the projects we didn’t finish will wait a while longer—really.

But when it comes to visiting old friends there sometimes isn’t a next year. It has been the sad norm the past few years that we lose a few good friends each year. So in 2012 our number one priority is friends and everything else takes a back seat.

axman

Lost Another Friend to Prostate Cancer

We first met when we lived in Canada in the 1970s and our families have been friends for the past 40 years. Dennis was, at various times, my neighbor, my student, my building contractor, and my colleague (he became a psychologist). He was active, smart, ambitious, and musically talented (he played in a rock band in his 60s). He had a knack for helping others—whether building their house or counseling their marital problems.

He was diagnosed only four years ago but the cancer was already advanced. He received multiple treatments to slow the tumor growth but nothing was very successful. His church and family ties helped keep him strong and positive.

No matter what progress you hear about in cancer treatment, it all boils down to the individual person. I can only hope that somebody somewhere finds a way to slow down prostate cancer (or even cure it) before I lose more friends.

axman

How Terribly Strange…

...to be seventy

With apologies to Paul Simon (Old Friends from the Bookends album 1968 when I was relatively young); it IS terribly strange. Never in my wildest dreams and fantasies did I ever imagine being seventy. Not that I planned an early demise; but being that old just never seemed real or important.

In my younger days (see, I sound old already) many of the seventy-year olds I knew seemed decrepit, senile, and sometimes couldn’t even care for themselves - at least it seemed that way to me. Just like my kids and grandkids think of me now – at least sometimes. Certainly not all septuagenarians are frail, but numbers count – retirement age, Social Security, and Medicare are based on age and mortality tables. The government is betting we die before we collect very much. Ha! I'm already collecting!

Various and sundry body parts don’t work as well as when I was a mere 50 or 60 but I’m still able to walk and chew gum at the same time – if I’m real careful. Strangely, I don’t feel old (except for those sore knees and arthritic hands and a slipped disc or two). I’m almost always able to find my way home from the grocery store; but just in case there’s a problem I carry a GPS in the car with a Go Home button. It doesn't hurt to be prepared.

When do I start feeling really old? When did you? Let me know. Tell me twice; I’ll probably forget the first time.

axman

Afraid of Dying?

…just about everybody is if they’re being honest and paying attention

Most of my life I never gave a second thought to death or dying unless somebody I knew died. That changed slightly the day I was diagnosed with cancer. Even then it was more strange than frightening. In recent years several close friends have died from long-term diseases including a variety of cancers. I was impressed at how calm, accepting, and unafraid they were.


In my experience, there seems to be a progression of views and beliefs in life.

At 20 I assumed I would live forever and never lose any kind of functioning. For a while that seemed to be the case.


At 50 I felt strong and still indestructible – even though I remember that I considered my parents old when THEY were 50.


At 70 (almost) I have come to accept mortality (sort of). But there is a lot I still want to do. My bucket list is long. I have slowed down some (OK, more than some) and there are more aches and pains than a few years ago. My prostate cancer is under control, for now, and my arthritis and other aches and pains are mainly annoyances.


My mind (this, of course, may not seem to be true to anyone who knows me) seems to be OK most of the time – if you don’t count forgetting lots of things.

I am less patient with long waits for medical appointments, slow payment of insurance claims, rudeness from people who SHOULD be helping me, and people assuming I am stupid just because I’m old and gray. I’ve learned to say things like, “Let me talk to your supervisor”, and “No, that’s NOT OK”!

So I’m just going to get on with it (it being living the way I want) and see what happens.


Axman