† ... the journal

The Guest
Refrigerator Door

The next magnets belong to the fridge of my friend Olivia



* Discussion *

How old is "old"?

Talk about it here.

Read the forum that was banned by one reader's office computer because it has "sexual content." I must be having more fun than I thought!



WHAT I'M READING...

The Hammer of Eden
by
Ken Follett

(I bought this in the Houston airport!)


WHAT I'M WATCHING...

Millionaire
Music Man


Pictures from the Cincinnati are now up at Steve's Club Photo page. Our visit with my goddaughter is on MY Club Photo page (called "Lyke Visit").


That's it for today!

MORTALITY

25 July 2001

Every so often, Iím brought face to face with my age and my mortality. In normal life, I wander along from day to day, accepting the fact that Iím 58 years old, without any thought to the fact that Iím in the second half of my life. The downhill part.

I come from good stock. My mother is pushing 82 very, very hard and youíd never know it to look at her. She doesnít dye her hair, hasnít had a face lift, has all her own teeth, and she looks pretty damn good for her age.

She also volunteers for a Hospice thrift shop, belongs to a singles' group, is active in a retirees' group, and has a more active social life than I have ever had. Sheís always running off to this or that luncheon, dinner, or fashion show. She's an amazing person. I'm very proud of her.

But in my non-Internet life ("there is one?" people ask in amazement) I work for a psychitrist who, among other things, does medication management for several convalescent hospitals and a retirement community and itís typing things like this that bring home to me the fact that Iím no spring chicken any more:

This 65 year old married white female was referred by Dr. X for evaluation of her depression. She was admitted to skilled nursing to facilitate a rehabilitation program but she has been uncooperative with physical therapy

Sixty-five years old. Old lady.

Gleep.

Sixty-five years old.

Me in 7 years!!!

This patient has difficulty remembering the name of the current president or the governor and "appears far older than her age."

Me in 7 years. Scary thought.

Of course, when I think that 65 years is "old," I only have to look at my mother and I feel a lot better. But the naked truth is there staring at me that Iím at an age where if I were to die, nobody would think it was "premature," or such a tragedy that I "died too young." People my age die all the time, having lived a long life. My friend Gilbert only lived to 55, for example.

I dunno. When I allow myself to think that I am at an age where I have probably lived more years than I have left, I look back over the span of my life and think about the hills and valleys and wonder how I would feel if it were all to end tomorrow. Could I die peacefully, happy that I had lived a good life and done all I wanted to do.

No. Not really. Mostly, but not completely. It seems that there will always be new roads to take, new goals to achieve, the elusive "something" that you hope youíll have the opportunity to pursue when the time is right.

In the meantime, you just try to maintain the status quo, continue to live the good life, hope you donít step on too many toes as you go about from day to day, and hope that when you reach 65, nobody will say you "look much older than your stated age."

When I look at my mother, the kind of adversity sheís weathered with grace and dignity, the control she's taken of her life, and see the kind of difference she makes in the world around her, I think that I have a pretty good role model and my chances of a long, productive life are pretty good.


One Year Ago:
Mind Over Bladder


Some pictures from this journal
can be found at
Club Photo


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Created 7/25/01 by Bev Sykes

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