As nearly everyone in my circle of society friends knows, I will be celebrating my 90th birthday early in August. In the last several months, my body has told me that I am not half the man that I used to be. I don’t look forward, for example, to long walks but rather, the shorter the better. I don’t go into certain stores because of the steps involved. So I stay in the car.
It is a lot like the filly who had the racing world agog with her triumph in the Kentucky Derby a couple of years ago. The Kentucky Derby is followed by two longer races. The second race is the Pimlico and the third is the Belmont. In the second race at Pimlico, the jockey aboard the filly fell behind and despite the urging of the whip, it became clear that the filly had run out of steam. When he was interviewed after the race, the jockey said, “I tried as hard as I could, but I knew that with the longer distance I had no more horse.” That description of “no more horse” seems to fit my case precisely as I approach the 90 year mark. As a matter of fact, the phrase “no more horse” may apply to all of us who have reached the golden years.
I joked that this slow-down was in accordance with God’s plans and I assumed that after 90 years in this vale of tears I would not have the get-up-and-go and oomph that I used to have. Now, I can still get from here to there, but it takes a hell of a lot longer than I would like for it to take and it is a lot harder.
And so, one day around the first of June of this year, Judy, my wife, took me to a meeting with Dr. Lloyd Alterman. Dr. Alterman works for the Summit Medical Group and is an old friend. As a matter of fact, Miss Chicka, my wife, knew Dr. Alterman before I did. So from that fact it must be concluded that Dr. Alterman is a friend of the family.
Dr. Alterman works in the Summit Medical Group in a new wing of the building in Berkeley Heights. I must say that it is a tortuous journey to find Dr. Alterman’s office. But it is all worth while. After the preliminaries were out of the way, I thought that it would be wise to tell Dr. Alterman what my complaint might be. Among other things, I told him that I am running out of gas, to use one crude expression having to do with my fatigue and lack of endurance . Things don’t come so easily any more because I have to work at them. All of this I attribute to my ancient age.
So I told Dr. Alterman that after he looked me over and reviewed all of my records, he might say to me, “You are 90 years of age, so what the hell do you expect?” Now mind you, these were my words to Dr. Alterman.
Dr. Alterman is a well respected physician and a conscientious fellow who then set to work reviewing all the records of recent blood tests. From time to time he checked my pulse and blood pressure; using the stethoscope, he reviewed my breathing apparatus.
This review by Dr. Alterman was thorough and when he stated his conclusions, I put considerable faith in those conclusions. But then Dr. Lloyd Alterman had this to say, after the medical results were read to me. Dr. Alterman said – and I will quote, “Mr. Carr, you are 90 years old, so what the hell do you expect?”
Dr. Alterman had remembered those lines perfectly and repeated them back to me when he finished his work. So I have taken note of the 90 years of age and have lowered my expectations accordingly. And now, if any of the readers of Ezra’s Essays are so inclined, they may visit Dr. Alterman and hear what he has to say. As far as I am involved, I consider him the finest internist in the business. And when he tells me or anyone else, “You are 90 years of age, so what the hell do you expect?”, you should pay attention to what Dr. Alterman has to say.
As a matter of fact, I propose to copyright/patent this diagnosis of “You are 90 years of age, so what the hell do you expect?” That is unless Dr. Alterman has beaten me to the punch!
E. E. CARR
June 7, 2012
Essay 666
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Kevin’s commentary: The number of the beast! Truly a landmark essay. Also somewhat unique in that it has a whole second essay published to clarify a correction to this essay regarding horses.
Also, only on Ezra’s Essays can you find an essay entitled “Expectations” and know with at least relative confidence that the essay is probably about lowering them. My grandfather is a realist above all else. But it’s also worth noting that for a 90-year-old man who went blind very very late in his life, he is still quite sprightly in my opinion.