"How ya feeling?" Don't ever ask a person over the age of sixty-five this question!
There was a cartoon in the New Yorker magazine circa 1950's. It showed this very bedraggled couple of undetermined age in a dirty pot filled kitchen with the plaster falling off the walls. He was un-shaven, clothes disheveled, and his mouth slack. She was in a house dress with unkempt hair and yellowed teeth. She was saying to him: "I've got good news, we pass this way but once!"
One of the things that I noticed after I was grown and visited my parents in Evanston, Illinois was that when they got together with their friends, the Donigans, the only thing they seemed to ever talk about was their health. They were in their seventies. I just didn't understand it.
I am eighty-two years old now and I know why! Here is the reason why old people talk almost exclusively about their health; they don't give a shit about anything else!
Here's the deal: When you're over seventy-five, every slight twinge, every small pain, every morning of irregularity or stomach upset means only one thing, "You're dead dude!" You can see how these things take on a new meaning and a life of their own. I mean like, "No! Oh no! Not now, not me Lord! Tell me it's just a gas pain!" And you want to talk about something else? Catch me later…after the nap!
A word to my younger friends, relatives, and slight acquaintances: If you walk into a gathering and notice an old gentleman sitting in a chair with his walking stick on his lap, he is staring into space, you talk to him and he doesn't answer and there is a small bit of spittle on his chin, don't automatically assume he is Non compos mentis. It's me dude! Don't taz me Bro!