I will be Medicare eligible in a few weeks, so I suppose that statistically I am "old." The main problem associated with growing old is being perceived as old. I am old on insurance tables, I am old on senior discount menus, I am old on homeowner tax exemption rolls, and I am "older" according to my AARP magazine subscription, although AARP considers anyone hovering near the age of fifty as old so I guess that doesn't really count.

The problems arise in perception and not in actuality.

Of course there are some problems associated with the aging process. My bowling has gone down hill probably because my balance is a bit off and I now need reading glasses to read the morning newspaper. But other than a slight case of arthritis in my left knee, a fluctuating blood pressure reading, intolerance to certain spicy foods, occasional bouts of insomnia, a faint moustache and wrinkles around my elbows, I am in remarkably good condition. Although I've had to give up red wine with dinner because it gave me indigestion and the fact that I always carry around a small vial of Tylenol in case my bursitis acts up, I can't complain too much.

I haven't slowed down in any immeasurable amount even though my state park camping trips where I joyfully slept in a musty smelling sleeping bag while shooing away mosquitoes and deer flies have been replaced by leisurely cruises and shipboard card games, I still don't feel old. There are three young men in my life now who insist on calling me "gramma" but I can deal with that inequity by reminding myself that their mother is nearing forty. How could someone like me have given life to someone like her forty years ago? I was probably just a wayward teenager. That's it.

While I can no longer tolerate long stretches in the car because my back starts to ache and the mere thought of riding on a roller coaster brings on a sinus headache, I do excel in walking a quarter of a mile on the treadmill or working out on my exercycle three or four times a month. Now that's actuality.

I love the summer heat but the humidity makes my flushing syndrome flare up and since I'm now prone to extreme chapping of my hands, I no longer venture very far from home during the winter months - unless I'm traveling to the port where my cruise ship departs.

All in all, the problems associated with growing old are mostly in one's own outlook. I've decided in my own mind that I don't look old, I don't dress old, and I don't act old therefore I am not old. I firmly believe that old is only a three letter word and not a way of life. The next time one of my grandsons calls me "gramma," I'm going to look him straight in his face and say "Who you calling old, kid?"

Learn more about this author, Patricia Parker.
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