This is where I found myself last week, registering for Medicare. Yes, that program for OLD people; the one my grandmother was on for as long as I can remember. The whole process felt like a dream that someone—anyone–else should be doing but me. And yet? Here is where I find myself: almost 65. It’s not that I don’t own the years. I just can’t quite come to grips with the fact that now they own me.
If you look at the statistics—and I do—they are sobering: 63% of folks over 65 are in need of long-term care. The probability of my becoming disabled or cognitively impaired is 68%. Finally there is this: 69% of us will develop disabilities before we die and 35% of us will enter a nursing home! ‘Not me,’ I can hear you saying. Well, I’m saying it, too, but talk is cheap.
It’s hard enough to face one’s own mortality without having to sign on the dotted line about it. I also have to, “Choose a plan from A to N.” What that really means is: do I pick the Pollyanna plan which says that I’m healthy, will live forever and nothing bad will ever happen to me? Or, do I pick the plan that has me covered if I break every bone in my body, contract cancer and have only 6 weeks to live?
In times like these, I often refer to the wisdom of noted neurologist and philosopher, Viktor Frankl, who wrote, “Man’s Search for Meaning.” It is a book that I read in my youth and one which speaks to me still.
“The pessimist observes with fear and sadness that his wall calendar, from which he daily tears a sheet, grows thinner with each passing day. The optimist removes each successive leaf from his calendar and files it carefully away. He reflects with pride and joy on all the life he has already lived to the fullest. What does it matter to him that he is growing old? What reasons has he to envy a young person? For the possibilities that a young person has? ‘No, thank you,’ he will think. ‘Instead of possibilities, I have realities in my past, not only the reality of work done and of love loved, but of sufferings bravely suffered.”
Ah, clearly I should face this new reality with the spirit of possibility and carry on. N’est-ce-pas?
AGEFULLY AGING 
Ah! I know the feeling, Helen. VERY, VERY FORTUNATELY, because of the all the inspiring information that you passed on to me about nutrition, vitamins, minerals and other supplements-and I applied to my own life from those days forward-while we were in our mid-20’s and living in L.A., I have not had the severe downturns in my health that friends my age have. People are shocked when they find out my true age. As my female M.D. who graduated from Boston University and M.I.T. said to me recently, “You’re the anomaly!” Yeah, I thought to myself—and I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t met Helen!
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You hit that one right on the head
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Good one, nice reflection. Thanks for your honest sharing. Reality is a sometime thing, n’est pas? We have only today, really, to make any progress, so who cares how old we are? it’s our todays that count, not our yesterdays. Blessings, Tasha
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Well stated, Helen! I will be there in the not too distant future!
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Excellent!
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We’re still the young old. So rejoice, while we can!
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