Older than dirt

As of yesterday, Tuesday February 5th, 2019, Yrs Trly became age-75 =- older than dirt.
A couple years ago I was found to have prostate cancer, the beginning thereof, I guess.
Heavy-heavy! Bring on the urology doctors: the ones who run the practice.
I was advised of various treatment options. My brother suggested I do nothing, since prostate-cancer is slow-growing.
My urologists were more concerned. Treatment is also moolah for their practice. I also had a friend whose father died of what started as prostate-cancer.
One option was to insert radioactive beads, which they said might be good for 10 years.
“I wanna be around longer than that,” I stated. Long enough for Steve Bannon’s “Survivalist” politics to ascend. Long enough for massive coal-burning to begin flooding south Floridy.
My final treatment option was complete removal of my prostate.
My friend did similar to avoid the fate of his father.
So, prostate removed via da Vinci® robot surgery.
One of the urologists did this. He claimed he drove a Buick instead of a Ferrari. That was my long ago open-heart surgeon.
The lady who runs my YMCA talked to me yesterday — I give them money.
“You don’t look 75,” she said.
“Paragon of virtue,” I suggested. “Never smoked, hardly drink at all, no gambling. The last alcoholic beverage I had was maybe five years ago.”
“With me it was last night,” she noted. She’s slightly younger than me.
My aquacise instructor at that YMCA recently became a grandmother. She’s thrilled, of course; but I worry about that grandson.
Survival-of-the-fittest, ya know. All those south Floridians move to upstate New York to escape the flooding, and exterminate we residents. She and I will be gone in not too long, but probably not her grandson. Unless some Bannon-wannabee exercises survival-of-the-fittest.
“Three quarters of a century,” she noted. Then she led others singing “Happy Birthday.”
I’m no good at playing along. After 75 years I know it’s better to keep my mouth shut. That’s sad for the others, but less painful than my saying something dumb.
My speech is also hesitant. That’s aphasia, a stroke-effect. Slight in my case; I had a stroke over 25 years ago.
75 years on this planet, and a lot has happened. I could tell stories.
My wife is gone. She died of cancer almost seven years ago. She was the one supposed to make 100 —her mother did.
What am I doing here?

• I had a stroke October 26th, 1993 from an undiagnosed heart-defect since repaired. It slightly compromised my speech. (Difficulty finding and putting words together.)
• That heart-defect was repaired with open-heart surgery.