You're Too Old To Think You're Invincible: The Promise of Tomorrow is a Lie
Too Old for This Sh*t: How to Take Your Life Back from an Ageist Society
When the promise of tomorrow becomes the fight for tomorrow
This morning an email inviting me to join a website called Caringbridge showed up. I almost deleted it except that the name of a friend was involved, and it was her email. Not a sales pitch.
Turns out that my friend recently got diagnosed with Stage Four ovarian cancer. Tumors have spread. While she’s largely symptomatic, she is facing chemo and a long road ahead.
She may make it. She may not. Even with the best of care the survival rates are 30-31%.
She’s got a little money. A big house in a beautiful part of California. Lots of friends. A good job. However what she’s got externally isn’t going to fix what’s going on internally, albeit the friends and community will most assuredly help.
But not cure.
I’d stepped back from this friendship a few months ago when an exchange got heated from her side, and to my mind, unnecessarily caustic. We’d been speaking regularly, and I needed a break.
In the interim, a sharp pain at her waist led to this devastating diagnosis.
Worse, my friend isn’t even sixty.
My sadness about this is the sudden change of all options at a time when she was revving up for a very different kind of life. She’ll be getting a different life all right, just not the options she had in mind.
She is no longer promised many tomorrows. Many of us at sixty assume the health we now enjoy, should we have good health, is going to remain that way forever.
I made the same mistake. I was in incredible health at sixty, but injuries and repairs over the last five years have changed some of that. Much of what I lost is within reach to regain. Some not, as bones and body parts are gone.
Health isn’t guaranteed. Longevity isn’t either.
Not a good assumption, especially if we’re not doing the basics in terms of good food, movement, the social circle my friend enjoys, and a lively purpose.
We are promised nothing. Worse, when we are young, the assumption of decades upon endless decades is no longer guaranteed simply on the basis of youth.
Younger and younger people are being diagnosed with colon cancer. Rectal bleeding is a major red flag, but because of embarrassment, those people aren’t telling their doctors.
Breast cancer, which is linked to alcohol use and abuse, can also start young. Obesity is linked to cancers in the young as well.
Some of this is lifestyle-related. Some isn’t. This is the 25% pure shit luck as we age, where 75% of our health future is squarely in our hands. All too often we squander that healthy percentage and end up with fatty liver disease and worse.
Blame whomever or whatever you want, microplastics, bad food, corporations, oil companies. Some of this is Them, much of this is Us.
At least my friend took a weird pain seriously.
I just got back from four days on the Rogue River. My feet hurt like a bastard, making hiking on rocks a particular displeasure. But I am alive.
There were plenty of instances where I noticed that my hands didn’t work the way I’d like. That I couldn’t trust my body in ways I used to. But I am alive.
I rode the Class III and Class IV rapids with talented guides, slept with the river and night sounds as my symphony.
I am alive.
I hurt pretty much 24/7. But I am alive.
Tomorrow is not guaranteed.
A few months ago my physician spotted a dark spot on my right lung. Their response was “no worries.”
I took issue with that response.
Having been a heavy smoker for three years in my teens, I fought long and hard to see a pulmonary specialist. Their review of my CT scan resulted in an appointment in a few weeks. They disagreed with my physician.
You have got to be your own best health advocate.
The VA fought me on seeing a specialist for my kidneys. Turns out I really needed that specialist, and with changes in food I improved swiftly.
The VA fought me on seeing a specialist for my urinary issues. Turns out I really needed that specialist, and with changes in food I improved swiftly.
As we age, even when we’re younger than we think we should be to get some rando disease, we need to take symptoms seriously before they are beyond repair.
As my buddy
will validate, one hell of a lot of what ails us can be fixed with nutrition and dietary changes. But not if we try to guess our way or ignore key symptoms.Sure, I’m strong. Largely healthy. AND.
I am not guaranteed tomorrow. Not even an hour from now. On the way to the gym today some damn fool could T-bone me.
What are you doing with the time you are given?
I’m starting to plan some trips that I’ve put off for all kinds of reasons. I may have to load up my credit card, but at some point, when are you and I going to go do that thing?
writes about lovely locations…do you read that, nod, and say, someday?Do it now.
took a life-changing trip with her daughter to Spain. Now she lives there. Did you read about that and nod, and say, Imma do something like that someday?Do it now.
Alaska was on my bucket list. That trip is now planned for October.
I may die owing a shitton of money but at least I lived.
For my friend, who is facing rounds of chemo, surgery and likely more, such options have narrowed to the point of potentially….never.
There is no longer some arbitrary age where you should be suddenly be more mindful about symptoms. Given the quality (or lack thereof) of our water, air, food, and in too many cases just terrible lifestyle habits, it serves to take symptoms seriously.
That doesn’t make you a hypochondriac. It does mean you’re mindful of your body.
Two years ago I had plans to visit a friend in Haifa. Two weeks before my plane was to leave, war. She’s still alive, but life has changed completely.
We are promised nothing.
As I actively downsize my house for sale next spring, as I research the options I want to believe are available to me, I also hold space for the possibility that something may spring out of the bushes and take me down without warning.
The spot on my lung? May be nothing. May be the end of me. That said, life will be the end of me at some point, as it happens for us all.
Meanwhile, I declutter. Sell. Donate. Simplify. Make plans. If I am incredibly fortunate I will get to live those plans.
They are not promised.
What will you do with the time you are given?
Let’s play, before time runs out on us.
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That is sad news indeed about your friend's diagnosis, but the life lesson is clearly not lost on you. I got this lesson loud and clear when my first husband, at age 54, came home early from work one day feeling tired, took a nap and never woke up. Plans are great, as long as you know they're only plans, not contracts with the Universe.
Julia,
I am so very sorry about your friend. She is facing a real fight.
We can't predict our future. Shit happens to us, and, like you said, "We are promised nothing." We must act and live the way we want when we can. As you know, I was diagnosed with breast cancer in my 30s, so mortality was on my radar pretty early on. And get this: I was a non-drinker, fit, healthy eater. What the hell?
For me, living my best life involves creating art. This is what I've been doing with my life since cancer, and my goodness, what a great way to live.