Three things happened this week that made me feel old, at least for a little bit.This is a bit unusual because I don’t usually give my age much thought even though my body doth protest doing things at times.
First of all I received a letter from Social Security confirming an upcoming appointment to discuss signing up for Medicare. Medicare! when I was a kid only old people were on Medicare and now I am signing up for it. I must be old.
Secondly, I have an appoint this afternoon to listen to someone speak about supplemental health care options including a drug prescription program. This was always included in my coverage from work.
The third thing that happened took place when I went for my first appointment at cardiac rehab yesterday. As I was leaving one of the nurses grabbed my hand to look at my high school class ring. Yes, I still wear it. Unlike most rings form schools in our area my ring is not the typical round stone. Here is a picture of it.
Now, the fact that she wanted a closer look at ti didn’t bother me. The fact that she asked the year, which is 1969 didn’t bother me. What did get to me was that one of the other nurses said, “Oh, that was the year I was born.” I suddenly felt old.
But then I started thinking. OK. I am turning 65. I collect a pension. I am going on Medicare. Hey, I worked 40 years to get to this point. I get a check every month for just sitting home at this point. I have the freedom to go and do what I want whenever I want. I am going to Africa in a few months. I was given a new lease on life.
I am not old. I am in the prime of my life and I am going to enjoy it to its fullest. Age is truly just a number.