The Last Thirty Years

 A friend of mine didn't like her 70th birthday. She told me how she felt.

Old Friends

'At first I was fine. I thought, well, I might have close to 30 years left! That's not bad. That's a big chunk of time. But then it occurred to me that I might not get those 30 years. How can I count on getting them? There is no guarantee I will live until 100. 

That's true, I sigh.

She continues: 

So I thought, well, I could have 20 years left if I make it to 90. For sure I'll live to 80. Both my parents lived into their 80's and they didn't take good care of themselves. But I do take care of myself. Plus I don't have their health problems. They lived until their late 80's so I should be able to make it to to at least 90, maybe even 100 with a lot of luck.

A lot of luck, I say. Is it ageism to say that?

My friend answers. No, it isn't ageism. Most people do not make it to 100. I won't either, she laughs sardonically. Who am I kidding?

But let's say that I make it to 90, then that gives me another 20 years starting now, which seems like a pretty long time. 

I cock my head. Uh huh.

But I might fall. I take more risks than my parents ever did. I do more things. If I fall and break a bone, if I'm in a car accident, it could take a year to heal, at least. It might never heal. There might be complications. I'll be lucky if I make it to 80 if I fall in my 70's. Which means I have to consider lifestyle changes. Now.

Those can be good! I declare encouragingly.

I don't want to consider lifestyle changes. I'm too young. 

Sorry.

But then I thought, well, what's wrong with another 10 years, living to 80. Lived to the fullest 10 years could be amazing. It could be fantastic! I should retire, buy an RV, travel the country. Live it up.

But I might only make it to 80. Maybe I'll only make it to, say, 75, and living it up for a whopping five years seems lame. Better than nothing, because I could get hit by a truck tomorrow, but not enough. It doesn't seem like a very long time at all, five more years.

Let's say I evenmake it to 75. By then my eyesight will be even worse than it already is. It isn't great now. And there's a likelihood that something else might pop up, some kind of cancer or another. It is inevitable, People get cancer. 

It will be a miracle if I make it to 75. A miracle.

I say nothing.

But it is curable! I made it through Covid, didn't even get it! I could get treatment--for whatever deadly disease I do get, probably a brain tumor. I would go into remission, change my life, appreciate it more. Every day is a blessing. Just get me to 75. I could be okay even with the thought of only making it to 75.

Would you? I ask.

She thinks about it and looks me in the eye before saying: It is entirely possible that I won't make it to 75 so the question is moot.  

I say Yeah, it is possible. But you're in good shape. Why borrow trouble? Why not stay in the moment and enjoy life as it is, not how it might or might not be?

I might not make it to 71, you're saying, but I shouldn't worry about it. Really? Really? Are you freaking kidding me? If you thought you were only going to live until 71 would you not be out of your mind?

Yeah, I say. I would obsess about it. True.  So let's not worry about it, not think about it, save ourselves the grief, shall we?

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