I have, with apologies to James McMurtry, more in the mirror than there is up ahead and a phalanx of physicians who work overtime and double-time to keep me above ground. And, if I'm being honest, a rare occurrence so savor this moment, as much as I complain about the cost of living I'm terrified by the finality and the cost of leaving.
I'm at an age where when I pass almost anyone else of any other age I ruefully recall when 'I used to do that' (ranging from jogging effortlessly to eating ice cream without getting any on me) and so here I am wondering just how much of that 'old guy smell' I have, mainly because one of the problems with it is you can't smell it on yourself and how much longer I have on this orb. In the last three weeks, two people with whom I worked a long time ago, passed away. Gives you cause for pause unless, like me, you're an idiot.
I spend more and more of my time debating between quick and slow in terms of how I'd like to go, pretending in my arrogance that it's a choice that's mine to make at all. And, seriously, just how long is too long to stay at the fair, anyway? Not that I'm the guy you want to ask because every time I visit any of my doctors and I have a ton of specialists not because I'm special but because I'm different, there's a certain amount of pucker factor going on as they start to speak after then put the stethoscope down.
Yep, that's the big one for me: how long is too long? Seems like the answer keeps changing and that leads to the other question, do you really want to live forever?
-bill kenny
No comments:
Post a Comment