Age Obsessed...
I'am becoming more obsessed with my age, more concerned with the question--how much longer have I got? At 88 and with less than a month to go to 89, that question seems to loom much more urgently. I use the word 'obsession,' but perhaps that goes too far; perhaps it's just something that is there in the back of my mind, coming to the surface now and again--but perhaps more frequently now than in the past.
What are you talking about, Cutler? Concern, obsession? How much longer have you got to live?
Stop it. Just keep registering how lucky you are. Nothing much wrong with you...you've got the pacemaker, and your heart is a bit irregular--but, God knows, you have been like that for the last--how many?--fifteen years, and you still manage to walk about four miles or more each day. So why should you keep worrying that you might be on the verge of having some major health problem that will usher you into your final days?
The fact is that I do...