In most unpleasant conversations, one of our daughters will interject the thinly veiled threat- "You know it will be up to me where you end up", as if this bothers me. I plan to keep my wits about me, be around for a long time, and make what ever decisions need to be made.
After receiving an application to join AARP last week, which I am sure was a mass mailing and most certainly addressed to wrong person, I started doing the math. I may very well be entering the last third of my days around here - not a good thought when you just realized your smaller clothes are fairly tight. But, I digress.
When I look at the "D's" (for Dr.) in the contact list on my phone it is mind boggling. It contains listings for my Cardiologist, Dentist, Dermatologist, General Practitioner, Gynecologist, Pharmacist, Psychiatrist, Neurologist, Numerologist, Ophthalmologist, Optometrist, Telepathist, and Mirnerva (but, in full disclosure she is cross referenced under "M" because I do not know her last name and "V" for Voo Doo).
Besides, I feel very healthy. Well, there are those gentle reminders that I am no longer 18, the idea of hiking several miles is exhausting, that severe pain in the top of my spine that comes and goes, those pesky gray hairs that continue to appear, and wrinkles on my face in places I would rather them not be. But, I refuse to throw in the towel.
But come to think of it, if she is going to make the decision, someone is going to have to pay for it. Um, I best make sure those Dr's numbers are up to date because I am going to need them to patch me up and keep me going. I've already figured out I'm never going to be able to retire. And, it's a good thing, because I could never afford to go where I want to go and, God knows, I would hate to have my fate placed in the hands of someone who had been thinking about this since she was five.