Chapter 1: Reflections on Aging

What are the responsibilities we bear as we grow older? At 66 years old, I find myself pondering this question more frequently. While science insists that we are always at risk, hitting this milestone feels markedly different than when I was in my 30s. Sixty-five felt manageable, but sixty-six is a stark reminder of my mortality.

Despite this, I don’t feel old. Many have commented that I look much younger, and while I may not agree, I appreciate the sentiment. I recall my appearance at 40, and this certainly doesn’t resemble it.

Recently, I engaged in my usual workout routine, which consists of bodyweight exercises like pushups and downward dogs. As I increased the number of repetitions, my body reacted with a fierceness I hadn’t experienced before, leaving me sore the next day.

“Why are you pushing yourself?” my body seemed to ask. “Do you not realize you’re 66 now?” I stumbled to my empty medicine cabinet searching for relief, promising my body I would be more careful.

Aging has made me more irritable. Minor annoyances now feel magnified. The sound of leaf blowers that once blended into the background has turned into an unbearable distraction. When one of the workers acknowledges me during my walks, I respond politely, even if I fantasize about taking his machine and using it for my own amusement.

Dogs barking in the neighborhood have transformed from normal background noise into irritating creatures in my mind. Yet, I realize these thoughts are merely symptoms of aging, and I actively seek ways to counteract them through meditation, exercise, and prayer.

But exercise is becoming increasingly frustrating. In my 30s, workouts filled me with anticipation; now, they often leave me feeling defeated. My wrists creak with every pushup, and I wish for a magical solution to silence that reminder of aging.

As I approached 66, I found myself drooling more than before. My pillow has become a drool pit, and I now keep a towel handy beside my water glass to manage my nightly discomfort. Despite these quirks, I consider myself relatively healthy. I avoid prescription medications and have only spent one night in the hospital due to a bleeding ulcer years ago.

Many face chronic illnesses that require regular medication, which I’ve managed to avoid, primarily by resisting the urge to seek out prescriptions for minor ailments. I often see peers rush to the doctor for the smallest issues, unwittingly opening themselves up to a cascade of side effects.

Though I maintain a healthy diet, late-night snacking has crept into my routine, threatening my good habits. I steer clear of overly processed foods and anything with corn syrup, even going so far as to reward friends who find me sugar-free spaghetti sauce.

I drink only plain iced tea and have distanced myself from substances that once brought me joy. My last experience with alcohol was a reminder of my allergy to it, and I now view it with caution, seeing only its potential dangers.

The thought of death has become more prominent as I age. I want to experience the transition, not wake up disoriented from drugs or alcohol. I believe in an afterlife and want to face it sober and aware.

As I approach 66, I think more about my legacy. I don’t want to become a burden to those around me. I want to maintain quality of life and not reach a point where others must care for me in the most basic ways.

This leads to deeper questions: What if I stop making an effort to maintain my health? Do I owe it to my loved ones to continue taking care of myself?

I didn’t contemplate these issues in my youth, but they now weigh heavily on my mind. In my younger days, I had a counselor who helped me understand the importance of perseverance. He once asked what “giving up” meant to me, and I couldn’t articulate it.

Now, I realize that “giving up” can manifest in many forms—like indulging in junk food every night or abandoning exercise. It doesn’t always mean a dramatic end.

I sometimes feel the pull of laziness, wanting to forgo exercise for the comfort of the couch. However, my current commitment to fitness keeps me from succumbing to that temptation.

Aging often leads to subtle declines in health. It can start simply with a diminishing desire to care for ourselves, a gradual slide into apathy.

While I’m still filled with enthusiasm and goals, I recognize that a shift could occur. If I lose my passion, does that signify a descent into depression?

A few years ago, a college crush of mine took her own life. She was my age, successful, yet faced unbearable struggles. Her death still haunts me, raising questions about the nature of despair and the gradual loss of care for oneself.

This is not just an issue for the elderly; it can affect anyone at any stage of life.

For now, I choose to live fully. But what if I decide my obligations to others no longer matter? What if I indulge recklessly without regard for my health?

These are questions that linger as I continue this journey through aging. We each bear a responsibility to ourselves and those who care about us, but as we age, those ties can weaken.

Ultimately, I want to remain vigilant and proactive about my health, both for myself and for those who care about me.

Chapter 2: The Importance of Healthy Aging

This video discusses the ethical considerations surrounding the obligation to care for aging parents, a crucial issue as we navigate the complexities of family dynamics and health.

In this video, the UN's Decade of Healthy Ageing highlights the importance of adding quality to our years, emphasizing the global need for health equity and well-being for all ages.