I can imagine the triage interlocutor asking me: Your age? 82 but I don’t feel a day over 79 - Your occupation? Retired, but I spend every penny of my pension as soon as I get it - Family? A wife of 57 years – she’s worried also – kids have flown the coop - Fecundity? Hell, my sperm passed their Best Before Date 30 years ago - State of Health? Passing fair but I am supporting the pharmaceutical industry.
Umm
Any comments before we assign you a number? - I still have things I can and want to do - there are books to read, music to hear. sunsets and sunrises to enjoy, flowers to tend for the pollinators - birds to feed, fish to catch and release - golf balls to hit and find - a Warriors’ dragon boat to paddle - poems to write, stories to tell - plays and the stage with the Players – scrabble, dominoes and cards – the waltz and two-step - the motorcycle to ride - omelettes to make, steaks to Barbie and a thousand other things that still make life enjoyable.
umm
I know, I know - we have a surfeit of people in the world – there are billions too many now – in the grand scheme – if there was one – we all pass by in the blink of the eye.
Proceed, dear interlocutor – triage. I envy not your job.
