Seventy years

As of today, Wednesday, February 5th, 2014, yrs trly is 70 years old.
I have attained “old fartdom.” 60-to-69 is “crusty curmudgeon;” 70-to-79 is “old fart;” anything past 80 is “geezer.” I suppose beyond 90 is “extreme geezer.”
I suspected I’d make it. I also expected my wife would, but she died of cancer almost two years ago at age-68.
If my wife hadn’t died, she would have made 100. She had the genes. Her mother is still alive at almost age-98.
I don’t know if I’ll make “geezerdom,” but I might.
My father died at age-79, but my paternal grandfather made his 90s.
I work out, and I used to run footraces.
In fact, I was still running until my wife died. She would take the dog.
I continue to walk my dog about four miles at a park. The old ticker seems to be doing okay.
I have this dreadful feeling friends may make a fuss.
I don’t like being the center of attention.
No doubt my Facebook will be awash with birthday wishes.
My niece suggested I eat out at a nearby Texas Roadhouse.
They have this tradition of celebrating birthdays by having all their customers yell “YEE-HAAA!”
I don’t want that.
I also share dinner with GriefShare participants on Wednesday-nights.
Today is Wednesday.
So one brings a cake, and they all sing “happy birthday.”
I guess I can stomach that.
But as I say, I don’t like being the center of attention.
There have been bumps along the way.
About 21 years ago I had a stroke. Totally unexpected.
My doctors were buffaloed. I was in excellent health, running footraces at the time.
But I had an undiagnosed heart-flaw, a patent foramen ovale (“PAY-tint four-AY-min oh-VAL-eee”), a hole between the upper chambers of my heart that passed a clot. (New England Patriots linebacker Tedy Bruschi [“brew-SKEE”] had one and it also caused a stroke.)
I recovered fairly well (so did Bruschi); I can pass for normal.
I’m left with slight defects. My speech is a tiny bit compromised, and my balance is questionable.
Most people don’t notice a speech-defect, and I do balance-training when I work out.
About eight years ago I started having what the medical-establishment called “dizzy-spells.”
It felt like my heart had stopped, and was no longer pumping blood to my brain.
I retired because of it, and began a battery of tests.
We tried everything, brain-scans and nighttime heart-monitors.
Finally a neurologist suggested my dizzy-spells sounded like a side-effect of the calcium-blocker blood-pressure medication I was taking.
So I stopped taking it. No dizzy-spells since.
Then my beloved wife of 44+ years died, and this was after wrastling with cancer over five years. It often seemed like it was in remission, yet it always came back. I was her taxi-driver.
When she died I was numb for a while. I always wonder how my dog dealt with my numbness. I felt I was no longer in the real world — I felt the same after my stroke.
But now I guess that numbness is over; I feel more in touch with reality.
I still get depressed, and guess I always will.
She was the best friend I ever had; and believe-you-me after years of being “stupid” and “of-the-Devil” I needed that.
So now I have attained “old-fartdom.”
In honor of that, I have a cold which may scotch celebrating.
We’re also getting heavy snow which may close everything.