You Can't Take It With You

"Remember, it's not how much you have; it's how you spend it."

Because this was my doctor speaking, I naturally read more into it than if it was a Tesla salesman trying to convince me to buy a sportscar that can be re-charged at a shopping center.

In his jovial but professional way, he touched on a few other items, like asking if I was planning to retire someplace with lower taxes and cost of living than California.

He said he was planning to eventually retire in Nevada, where a couple of his good friends were already enjoying their golden years. He said he would need to find a place to escape during summer months when it gets hot, adding that at least it's a dry heat and so not as bad as humid Taiwan, where he grew up.

Real estate markets can be volatile, he noted, adding that for ten or twelve years, renting wouldn't be a bad way to go.

And there it was. The subtle meaning to our conversation.

With average life expectancy of 78, the good doctor nudged me to consider that none of us will live forever in this incarnation. 

On the bright side, he told me that because I had not gained weight --- which in the pandemic age set me apart from his average patient, apparently --- my risk of heart attack had slightly declined since my last physical exam.

That earlier assessed risk had already been below the line above which he would be concerned, so I should be good for a while.  He added that if blood tests revealed that my cholesterol came down as dramatically as it had on my last annual visit, then that would be even better.

Upon getting those lab results, my doctor sent me an upbeat message saying that my heart attack risk had dropped another 18%.

Before I left the office, however, he had given me a booklet on "Life Care Planning," which includes a lot of grim questions about resusitation and the like in the event of a life-threatening condition.

Certainly, having been forced to confront these issues for my parents at emotionally stressful times, I see this chance to decide about my own late-term care while I'm still of sound mind and body makes this seem like a very rational and even kind approach.  The booklet asked how I like to spend my time and who I like to be with. What is a good day for me? What would make life not worth living?

These are all questions we should ask ourselves, especially as we emerge from this unprecedented lockdown for a very real virus that coincidentally has an average death age of 78, which is essentially the average life expectancy for Americans currently.

Just as me surviving another year at the same weight lowered my heart attack risk, life expectancy for any given individual may improve, and no one wants to die in horrible conditions. Quite rationally we don't want to become deathly ill or suffer bad headaches for any reason.

To that end, I accepted the flu shot and tetanus shot offered during my medical clinic visit. Better safe than sorry, right?

When President Trump contracted COVID-19, it didn't turn out to be a death sentence as so many pundits speculated rather disturbingly in a cheerful manner, as if he had it coming to him.

He received new medications, including an experimental drug, Regeneron, which is not yet approved for use by the FDA.  Trump's "Right to Try" legislation, however, set the stage for doctors to administer this medical "cocktail" which turned out to rejuvenate him within a couple of days.

Trump has now requested that Regeneron be made available free to all seniors who contract COVID-19 and request it, which combined with vaccines that are progressing rapidly should make seniors, who have the highest risk of dying from Coronavirus, less afraid.

I've been praying for both the treatments and vaccines, even as I wear the masks and socially distance against my personal instincts, just to be a good team player during this unprecedented time.

Let's hope that we can finally put an end on this terrible episode as we enter 2021.  Let's cruise!