I had a physical last week. You get one each year when you go on Medicare. I received some information that really doesn’t come as a surprise. I’m not the healthiest eater and I don’t exercise the way I once did, so these are both contributing factors. But in the end, it boils down to my age. It looks like I’m dying.
When I pre-registered for the physical, the form had questions related to “older” people, and I began to think about being old. It turns out I’ve been dying for a while now. When I’ll take my last breath isn’t clear, but it will happen soon. “Soon” is a relative term, but in my case, it probably means in the next 10-20 years. My death isn’t imminent (I hope), but it’s coming. I won’t live forever. Sorry if I disappointed anyone…
A group of high school kids meets at our house on Sunday afternoon’s and I look at them, in all their youth and energy, and remember when I was that age. It seems like yesterday. There are two girls in the group who are very special to me, but every time I see them, I’m reminded of my age. You see, they are my oldest granddaughters. I look at them and wonder how did I move so quickly from being a teen to having teenage grandkids?
My 7-year-old grandson and I were talking earlier this summer and I asked him what he thought he’d be doing in 2 years. After he told me, I asked him what he thought I’d be doing. “I don’t know. You’ll probably be dead.” I laughed but what if it’s true? Am I ready for that? Are you?
We’re all dying. The question is, “how soon?”