Today I went to my doctor’s for my physical.

Before the doctor came into the room her nurse told me she was going to tell me three objects, an apple, table and…crap, what was the third object?? Then she had me draw a picture of a clock at seven o’clock.

After she told me to draw a clock, I am like…wait a minute!! That is a test for old people! I know. I’ve accompanied my 91-year old mom to all her doctor’s appointments for years.

The nurse says, “Welcome to Medicare!”

Now what was the third thing I was supposed to remember??

Next time they ask me to draw a clock, I am drawing a digital one.

Getting older is preferable to the alternative. At least, that’s what people often say. Of course this could lead into a discussion about dying with dignity and debilitating illness or the ravages of aging.

But that is not what this post is about.  It’s about those times when getting older is desired—like when we looked forward to our sixteenth birthday, so we could get a driver’s license. Or when we celebrated our twenty-first, because we could legally drink.

In my case at this point and time—it is reaching the age of Medicare. Yep, this year I go on Medicare. I turn 65 this November. I’m currently paying over a thousand a month for just my medical insurance, and I am curious to discover what my new insurance bill (and coverage) will be when I go on Medicare. I have an appointment with my insurance guru in a couple hours to find out.

My next milestone? Collecting Social Security in 2020. I hope it will still be a thing. 

Photo: Hubby and me at our family reunion this summer.