I’ve been thinking about writing this for some time. Some days I’ve wanted to write it then stopped myself as it didn’t seem important. But recently a few things have happened that make me want to put my thoughts down. Why? Firstly, to rationalise things for myself and secondly for anyone else reading this that might find it useful. I think most people, if they’re lucky, will reach a time when they’re verging on ‘old age’ and have similar thoughts.
I’ve never been worried about getting old or dying. I distinctly remember waking up on the morning of my 50th birthday and thinking ‘my life is probably more than half over’. But that was just an incidental thought, not something that caused me any worry. I’ve never suffered from a mid-life crisis or anything like that.
As I said I’ve never worried about dying. One of the things that annoys me about some religions is that they make people frightened of dying – going to hell etc. I don’t worry about it but that doesn’t mean to say that I don’t think about it – especially the implications for my family and especially my wife.
So what prompted me to write this? From the early 1980s I’ve played chess every couple of weeks with three friends. We meet at each other’s houses, toss coins to decide on pairing and spend a couple of quiet hours together. Our families also meet socially.
Last February, the youngest of these friends (68 years old) caught covid and was dead within ten days. Three weeks ago, the oldest member (85) had a stroke and on Monday of this week the last of the three (78) reported that he has stage 5 prostate cancer (the most advanced stage – life expectancy about 3 years). I’m not underestimating the devastating effect that this has had on their families and I’m hoping that people reading this don’t think I’m being selfish and self-centred in just relating here how all this has impinged on me personally. My thoughts for their families are for another place.
I’m 75 years old and hope, and expect, to go on for many years yet. But, no doubt, so did my three friends.
When I was invited to the local surgery for a ‘well man check’ a couple of years back the specific doctor I saw was not really enthusiastic about whole process. He told me that the three main things that determine life span are ‘your age, your parents and your gender. As long as you don’t smoke, keep relatively fit and look both ways before crossing the road then there’s not a lot more you can do.’
Both my parents died in their 90s, so I have a reasonable expectation to reach, say, 100. That’s another 25 years. Is that a long time? Looking back 25 years I can remember quite clearly my 50th birthday in 1996. I only hope the next 25 don’t go as quickly.
My long-term squash partner, who I played practically every Saturday between 1983 and 2008, died three years ago. He’d been ill for a while and had asked the doctors to stop the medication – it had some unpleasant side effects. He knew his time was limited and told me that he was counting the number of things that he wouldn’t experience again – Christmases, family birthdays, summer holidays and watching Wolverhampton Wanderers. I can relate to all that, except in my case it would be Manchester City.
This all sounds morbid, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. I’m just relating my thoughts.
I’m reasonably fit – I can run a mile in under nine minutes, 5k in under 28 minutes and I go to circuit training twice a week – but I wear glasses and hearing aids, apply drops each day to maintain my sense of smell and my memory is dreadful. On top of that I’ve just finished writing my Chrons Christmas cards and it’s been a struggle to make things legible, my handwriting is that poor. But, whilst some of that is age-related, I’ve no doubt the main problem is that in 1972 I stopped writing by hand and started using a computer keyboard – I’ve just got out of practice.
That’s probably enough for now. I’ll probably return to this at some time – hopefully in 25 years.
I’ve never been worried about getting old or dying. I distinctly remember waking up on the morning of my 50th birthday and thinking ‘my life is probably more than half over’. But that was just an incidental thought, not something that caused me any worry. I’ve never suffered from a mid-life crisis or anything like that.
As I said I’ve never worried about dying. One of the things that annoys me about some religions is that they make people frightened of dying – going to hell etc. I don’t worry about it but that doesn’t mean to say that I don’t think about it – especially the implications for my family and especially my wife.
So what prompted me to write this? From the early 1980s I’ve played chess every couple of weeks with three friends. We meet at each other’s houses, toss coins to decide on pairing and spend a couple of quiet hours together. Our families also meet socially.
Last February, the youngest of these friends (68 years old) caught covid and was dead within ten days. Three weeks ago, the oldest member (85) had a stroke and on Monday of this week the last of the three (78) reported that he has stage 5 prostate cancer (the most advanced stage – life expectancy about 3 years). I’m not underestimating the devastating effect that this has had on their families and I’m hoping that people reading this don’t think I’m being selfish and self-centred in just relating here how all this has impinged on me personally. My thoughts for their families are for another place.
I’m 75 years old and hope, and expect, to go on for many years yet. But, no doubt, so did my three friends.
When I was invited to the local surgery for a ‘well man check’ a couple of years back the specific doctor I saw was not really enthusiastic about whole process. He told me that the three main things that determine life span are ‘your age, your parents and your gender. As long as you don’t smoke, keep relatively fit and look both ways before crossing the road then there’s not a lot more you can do.’
Both my parents died in their 90s, so I have a reasonable expectation to reach, say, 100. That’s another 25 years. Is that a long time? Looking back 25 years I can remember quite clearly my 50th birthday in 1996. I only hope the next 25 don’t go as quickly.
My long-term squash partner, who I played practically every Saturday between 1983 and 2008, died three years ago. He’d been ill for a while and had asked the doctors to stop the medication – it had some unpleasant side effects. He knew his time was limited and told me that he was counting the number of things that he wouldn’t experience again – Christmases, family birthdays, summer holidays and watching Wolverhampton Wanderers. I can relate to all that, except in my case it would be Manchester City.
This all sounds morbid, but it doesn’t feel like that to me. I’m just relating my thoughts.
I’m reasonably fit – I can run a mile in under nine minutes, 5k in under 28 minutes and I go to circuit training twice a week – but I wear glasses and hearing aids, apply drops each day to maintain my sense of smell and my memory is dreadful. On top of that I’ve just finished writing my Chrons Christmas cards and it’s been a struggle to make things legible, my handwriting is that poor. But, whilst some of that is age-related, I’ve no doubt the main problem is that in 1972 I stopped writing by hand and started using a computer keyboard – I’ve just got out of practice.
That’s probably enough for now. I’ll probably return to this at some time – hopefully in 25 years.