Like you, I’ve been getting older for a long time. In fact, since my day of birth in 1950. Lord, am I getting older.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy that I’m getting older and I hope I get older for many years to come. But, every now and then I think about what's changed in my life over the years.
For example, yesterday I had my Annual Medicare Wellness Visit.
Annual. Medicare. Wellness. Visit.
(And I hope that appointment is on my calendar for many annuals to come.)
Talking about that appointment, without getting into many details (not because my medical info is private but some just aren't really up for gentile discussion) I just got back from the hospital where I went for X-rays ordered by my nurse practitioner (NP) yesterday. Was for my hands which for a few months now have felt very tight, especially in the mornings, especially the index fingers and wrists.
Originally, I thought it was related to my golf swing and I was swinging wrong. But, no, that is my real swing.
And, no, I didn’t fall or get into a fight with an anti-vaxxer. Actually I was pretty sure I knew what it was before I raised it with my NP. At my age you sense these things. Arthritis. 99 percent positive but the X-rays will confirm. Arthritis, another blessing you get that says, yes, you are getting older.
Parts are wearing out.
Now, that pain doesn’t stop me from playing golf. Or affect it in any way, shape or firm. I played the same before the presumed arthritis arrived. And I can sum up my golf game in three words (golf technical jargon but you'll understand): I’m not good.
I play with several guys in and out of our foursome who are peers, age wise. And, like any older person, I enjoy the camaraderie more than I would playing well. (Okay, that last sentence is a lie. I would trade them for a better game in a nanosecond!)
As I’ve gotten older I have collected a broad array of medical experts, too. And not just a Nurse Practitioner, which didn’t exist back then. Thirty years ago I had a general practitioner and an ophthalmologist because I’ve worn glass since before kindergarten. They served me well.
Along the years, though, I’ve added a neurologist, a dermatologist, a podiatrist, a urologist, a gastroenterologist, a surgeon, and, soon, a pulmonologist. I think that’s it. So far.
My wife’s birthday is today. She is a year younger than I am. So we get to experience the wonders of getting older together.
Not only does she provide all the advantages a good partner brings, but she (up until the pandemic anyway) came with me to important doctor appointments because (and I don’t think this is a function of age, just a function of who I am) she listens and remembers what the doctors say.
For example, yesterday my NP looked at a six-month old test ordered by a different doc and said. this says you have (one of those details you don’t really need to know). I said, hmm, I wonder why he never told me that. Seems he should have. Then I got home and my wife (whose birthday is today and who, among other gifts, I gave a T-shirt that says, “Wicked Smaht.” People from Massachusetts (Massachusettsians? Massachusites? Massachusettsans? Bay Staters? will understand that) remembered exactly what he said.
Which is all a long way of saying, getting older ain’t so bad. And I hope we all get older for a long time.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy that I’m getting older and I hope I get older for many years to come. But, every now and then I think about what's changed in my life over the years.
For example, yesterday I had my Annual Medicare Wellness Visit.
Annual. Medicare. Wellness. Visit.
(And I hope that appointment is on my calendar for many annuals to come.)
Talking about that appointment, without getting into many details (not because my medical info is private but some just aren't really up for gentile discussion) I just got back from the hospital where I went for X-rays ordered by my nurse practitioner (NP) yesterday. Was for my hands which for a few months now have felt very tight, especially in the mornings, especially the index fingers and wrists.
Originally, I thought it was related to my golf swing and I was swinging wrong. But, no, that is my real swing.
And, no, I didn’t fall or get into a fight with an anti-vaxxer. Actually I was pretty sure I knew what it was before I raised it with my NP. At my age you sense these things. Arthritis. 99 percent positive but the X-rays will confirm. Arthritis, another blessing you get that says, yes, you are getting older.
Parts are wearing out.
Now, that pain doesn’t stop me from playing golf. Or affect it in any way, shape or firm. I played the same before the presumed arthritis arrived. And I can sum up my golf game in three words (golf technical jargon but you'll understand): I’m not good.
I play with several guys in and out of our foursome who are peers, age wise. And, like any older person, I enjoy the camaraderie more than I would playing well. (Okay, that last sentence is a lie. I would trade them for a better game in a nanosecond!)
As I’ve gotten older I have collected a broad array of medical experts, too. And not just a Nurse Practitioner, which didn’t exist back then. Thirty years ago I had a general practitioner and an ophthalmologist because I’ve worn glass since before kindergarten. They served me well.
Along the years, though, I’ve added a neurologist, a dermatologist, a podiatrist, a urologist, a gastroenterologist, a surgeon, and, soon, a pulmonologist. I think that’s it. So far.
My wife’s birthday is today. She is a year younger than I am. So we get to experience the wonders of getting older together.
Not only does she provide all the advantages a good partner brings, but she (up until the pandemic anyway) came with me to important doctor appointments because (and I don’t think this is a function of age, just a function of who I am) she listens and remembers what the doctors say.
For example, yesterday my NP looked at a six-month old test ordered by a different doc and said. this says you have (one of those details you don’t really need to know). I said, hmm, I wonder why he never told me that. Seems he should have. Then I got home and my wife (whose birthday is today and who, among other gifts, I gave a T-shirt that says, “Wicked Smaht.” People from Massachusetts (Massachusettsians? Massachusites? Massachusettsans? Bay Staters? will understand that) remembered exactly what he said.
Which is all a long way of saying, getting older ain’t so bad. And I hope we all get older for a long time.
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