74 years old

“Sometimes I feel like I’m at death’s door,” I said to **** ********* yesterday in the Canandaigua YMCA swimming-pool.
We were sloshing around in the deep-end. **** hits the pool often, and I go there on my own try to improve my balance. I also do balance-therapy twice per week in that same pool. It’s a class.
I first met **** a few years ago. She was co-leading a grief-share I attended following the death of my wife.
“Depressed? Gloomy?” she asked. “Physical, not mental,” I said. “I don’t like getting old. Things happen I didn’t expect. Like needing more time to get up.”
Today is my 74th birthday. That makes me even more an old geezer. Prostate out, total knee replacement, plus my wife is gone. “Why am I still here?” I ask.
“Yer here to entertain us,” others say. “Make us laugh!”
“As long as I get up each morning,” I respond. I daily monitor my blood-pressure, which I’m told is exemplary. The reason I had my stroke was repaired long ago with open-heart surgery — I have the zipper. My doctor tells me I’m good-to-go.
Yet sometimes I feel like I’m at death’s door, especially after my aquacise class when my legs are jelly.
How’s it gonna be today? How many attempts do I hafta make to get erect? Balance and weight-distribution play a part. I can usually get up no-handed. But how many seconds will it take before blood gets to my head?
My carotid arteries are clear — that is, my doctor listens, and would tell me if they weren’t.
I suppose delay getting blood to my head is aging. I hafta be careful getting up. I haven’t fallen in some time, but I hafta be extremely watchful.
“What’s happening” versus “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” Keep running, eat right (no red meat), = forever young!
Then suddenly BAM! A totally unexpected stroke, due to an undiagnosed heart-defect long ago repaired. I remember my doctors wondering why a runner had a stroke.
A patent foramen ovale (“PAY-tint four-AY-min oh-VAL-eee”) in my heart had passed a clot toward my brain. This was at 1 a.m., and well before everyone was stroke savvy. Shoulda called the ambulance, but hospital was not until the next day = too late for clot-busters. We had no idea.
Paralysis of my left side at first, especially my arm. But I got all that back. Ornery as Hell! “I used to be able to tie my shoes,” and “I used to be able to sign my name;” all of which I got back, probably because being ornery I was working fast.
I been told if a stroke-victim works quickly, what remains of yer brain learns what the killed part did. That may be what happened; I’m told my recovery is miraculous.
Things were lost, like my ability to play piano and hold a tune, also eye-hand coordination that made drawing possible. Not lost were —a) my ability to “sling words” (writing), and —b) my artistical judgment, i.e. “if my name is on it, it’s gonna look good!”
I also got back to riding motorcycle. That was also supposedly miraculous, but ya don’t tell someone like me they no longer can ride motorcycle.
But I keep getting older. (I gave away my motorbike last year.)
Not too long ago I put down my beloved dog. I took her picture earlier, and not until now do I see that crazy monster looks sad and old; 13 years, 91 in human years. I couldn’t see it earlier, because she was still chasing rabbits.
I dread that coming in my case: “sad and old.” Often I hafta wait 2-3 seconds for blood to get to my head. After aquacise I hafta take a nap, and even after that I feel clumsy.

• My wife died of cancer April 17th, 2012. I miss her immensely. Best friend I ever had, and after my childhood I sure needed one. She actually liked me.