Stephen King’s 1991 mini-series, “Golden Years,” tells the story of an older man who stops aging and grows younger. Interesting premise. Where would it end? In the womb? Or would he simply cease to exist when he reached the moment of conception. It’s sort of like the incredible shrinking man. How small could he become? Did he shrink into nothingness or did he still exist in the cosmos the size of atomic particles?
Mr. Fixit and I were married when I was 20 and he was 28. At the time, the gap between us seemed to be large. In fact, some people thought it was too big a gap. When I was 32 and he was 40, it seemed still to be quite a difference. Even when he retired at 66, the gap seemed to be wide because of the length of time I had to wait to collect my SS benefits. Then after my SS kicked in, it seemed the gap disappeared.
Now as the character in King’s series, Mr. Fixit seems to be getting younger than I. In the last few years, he has had his heart fixed twice; it’s now almost as good as it ever was according to Dr. Doofus. He had his hernia fixed again. He now has help with his hearing, but that doesn’t count. It’s funny about those hearing aids; he can hear everyone except me. He’s had a colonoscopy; everything there is fine. Now he has an appointment next week to fix his eyes. If they decide to remove the cataract, he will be able to see much better.
As I see it, he’s getting younger with every doctor visit. Soon he will be the spring chicken and I will be the doddering old lady. Medical science is wonderful!
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