Old Age Fantasies

I’m probably not alone in imagining that I’ll continue into the indefinite future with my faculties, strength, and energy more or less intact.  And then, one morning I simply won’t wake up.  That’s one imagined scenario.  Another is that I’ll suffer a quick and painless decline, after bidding a smiling farewell to my nearest and dearest and organizing my files. 

That these are fantasies, I’m well aware.  To hold on to them means that I must banish thoughts of those friends who have died from Alzheimer’s disease or are currently suffering from it. I must cast out memories of visits to friends in nursing homes in which I pass inert patients, slumped in their wheelchairs, staring ahead unseeing or asleep, waiting to die.  I must forget the bitter complaints of a very old friend whose dependency on others for his daily care was almost complete.  When such memories surface I tell myself “it can’t happen to me.”  But why not? 

These gloomy thoughts arose the other day when I learned that the reason my legs ache when I walk any distance is because I’ve become severely anemic, probably due to loss of blood after a surgical procedure but possibly also because of renal insufficiency.  It’s likely that my body will restore the requisite hemoglobin all by itself but in case it does not, medical intervention can restore my blood count to what passes for normal with me.

In the meantime, though, I have an inkling of what it might feel like to be very old, when you have to ration your energy and think about every step.   Of course, I’d have to be lucky enough to live another five years to classify myself as very old, with 85 generally accepted as the boundary for that venerable stage of life.  Actually, if this is what I’ll feel like if I reach 85, I won’t complain.  I can still read and write and listen to music; I can still kiss my wife and hug my grandchildren; I can still meet my friends for lunch.  And if I find it hard to walk to the restaurant, I’ll borrow the scooter from the little boy next door.


2010-2012 Anchises-An Old Man's Journal All Rights Reserved