I feel like I need to reclaim my own space online—Facebook has been venomous lately, though I can’t blame anyone for that: I will always uphold democracy, so that includes the right of trolls to be an idiot.
Since the six months I’ve posted here, I’ve entered a new stage in my life: that is, getting old. And I’m no longer just talking about the few gray hairs and the little lines on my face; I’m talking about regular hospital visits and maintenance meds. It’s not as troubling as it sounds, although yesterday, my cardiologist (I now have one, lol) crunched some numbers on her app and showed me a stat: apparently, if I don’t change my lifestyle, I only have a 50 percent chance of making it to 85.
“The good news is,” she said consolingly, “if you keep up with your healthy choices, that chance increases by 5 percent.”
I never think about these things, but when I shared this with my colleague who’s going through the same health issues as I am, he turned sentimental saying he wanted to reach the age of 80 so he could see his son turn 50; now that is worth increasing your chances by 5 percent for.