Aging sucks. 30 is not the new 20. 20 is, and will always be, 20. I am 34 and I just found myself dropping names in an effort to get an appointment with a doctor who isn’t taking new patients. I’ve already called three times today and faxes have been exchanged. This may sound crazy but I have an autoimmune disease and apparently this guy is the best on the west coast for treating it.
When I was 20 I may have known one or two people who had a chronic illness. Now it seems as though I know one or two people who do not. I know this is just a part of the aging thing and that illness, cancer and death will all become as old-hat to me as they did to my grandmother. Maybe, like my grandmother, I’ll start meeting up with my friends on a monthly basis to play Poker, drink Manhattans and discuss who amongst us is ailing. It’s really not so different than meeting up with girlfriends to let the kids play while we drink coffee and discuss who amongst us is having a nervous breakdown.
I think Robin Williams was onto something (besides the cocaine) when he came up with the idea of Mork from Ork aging backwards. The idea of having the wisdom of experience while also having the health to do something about it? Brilliant…
But since I live here on Earth I will continue to beg, grovel and name-drop until I get an appointment with this specialist at Virginia Mason. I’m not quite ready to be old yet and I think this doctor might be able to help me. But I’ll be ready for that Manhattan in about 30 years.