Image: Susanne Palmer, Pixabay

I am now eighty-four years old. It is quite an experience. For those of you who are at the same place in life, I have to wonder if you are facing the issues I do every day.

My husband and I were both born the same year, and so he too must deal with his own. 

What is important is that both of us must look at the calendar each day and be grateful to God for bringing us to this miraculous moment.  Doctors visits seem to proliferate for him because he suffers from eye problems. I, on the other hand, just keep complaining, and have chosen to avoid eye surgery.

My breathing isn't as good as I'd wish, so I spend the day on oxygen. Thank goodness that we live in an age that provides mechanical means to keep our lungs working.

I have to wonder whether it was the same one hundred years ago. My guess is that the answer is that in those days, people just struggled for breath, and inevitably didn't survive. For years I have been a prolific reader, and it would seem that now should be a good time to pursue that question.

Unfortunately,  I am not feeling strong enough to go out to the library today, so perhaps I'll take a look on my computer and try to find the answer to my query.

On a more positive note, I am aware of how lucky I have been to have made it this far, and can still hear how my grandchildren are doing. They are twenty-two years old and are fraternal twins. I am very proud of them. She is teaching sixth-grade students in an underprivileged school, and he is busy working to save up the money to go back to college and study to become either a social worker or a high school counselor.

I am curious to know if any of my readers are in the same position. It would be helpful to hear from any of you who are in a similar place.

I did write an article about quitting cigarettes some time back, but I am still smoking one or two a day.  My doctor feels that it isn't too significant that I do it at my age.

Next door is a woman who appears to be terribly ill and must be my age. I offered to go in and talk to her, but she told me to go away. I have no desire to be alone, and treasure conversations with any of my neighbors who care to speak with me.  That seems to make me feel better and less isolated. In addition, living with my husband helps give my days meaning,

Do write to me and please share how you are surviving the later years. Hearing from you would undoubtedly be of enormous help.