TAKING THE LONG VIEW
A Widow Bit – Nov. 15, 2009
By Mary Koch

            I’m in the process of getting my 65 million mile check-up and tune-up. I was going to call it 65 thousand, but I considered the average automobile at 65,000 miles. It’s hardly begun to mature, can still look like new and has most of its miles yet to go. By the time the human vehicle has reached 65, it has traveled a phenomenal distance – physically, mentally, emotionally and, one hopes, spiritually.

            I anticipated my 65th birthday with the same enthusiasm as I did my 16th. This time it wasn’t a driver’s license, but a Medicare card that tantalized me. Just as an automobile gave me a longed-for sense of freedom, Medicare freed me from paying thousands of dollars annually in health insurance premiums.

            To celebrate, I’m having myself checked out top-to-bottom, literally. It’s not that I’ve been neglecting preventative health care. I’ve always gotten my annual mammogram and pap smear regularly – every couple years. But as bad as I am about getting library books back on time, I’ve never had one as past-due as my colonoscopy, which is recommended at age 50.  Mine is set for December, only 15-and-a-half years late.

            Thank goodness, I don’t have to write about it. Humor columnist Dave Barry wrote the ultimate, laugh-out-loud piece on colonoscopies. Just Google “Dave Barry colonoscopy.” He’ll even send you a signed, congratulatory certificate if you have the procedure. You can also go on You Tube to watch a video of Katie Couric undergoing her colonoscopy. I’d say the whole topic has been adequately covered – or uncovered, as the case may be.

            I’ve reached the 65 million mile mark in extraordinarily good condition. A few dings on the body, but the motor’s fine. When I was lining up appointments, a clerk asked me to list my medications.

            “None.”

            “You don’t take any medications?”

            “Nope.”

            She went on with some other questions and then just had to make sure.

            “You really don’t take ANY prescriptions?”

            “That’s right.”

            “Remarkable,” she breathed.

            I may not be able to hold out much longer. I inherited great genes for longevity, but I also inherited the likelihood of osteoporosis. I’m being warned to take drugs to combat bone loss. In fact, after all the poking, prodding, testing, scanning, and dire scenarios about what could happen in my old age, I felt worse leaving the clinic than when I went in. And my dental exam, which is usually no more than a cleaning, resulted in replacement of an aged, cracked filling.

            “When do you suppose that tooth was originally filled?” I asked

            “Probably your early teens,” said the dentist.

            Imagine! I have fillings in my mouth that are older than the President of the United States.

            The optometrist made me feel better, though, as he wrote out a prescription for new lenses. It’s seems that even as my near vision decreases, my distance vision is improving. Less shortsighted, more farsighted – now, that’s a product of aging I can accept, even relish.