If I had forever

Yesterday I came across an article about a woman who is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records for being the oldest person on record - 122 years old when she passed. She was French. I’ve lost her name already, which isn’t a great sign, since I’m only in my 50’s and should probably be able to remember someone’s name only 24 hours after hearing it. She lived in a lovely apartment and was married to a wealthy man. She was able to enjoy the luxuries in life – the days wide open to her as they often are for the wealthy. She had many hobbies, including hunting – which for some reason struck me odd – and painting, among others. She outlived her husband, her only child, and her only grandson who died in a car accident.

At 90 she finally moved into a nursing home where she spent the remainder of her days. And there were still a lot of days ahead. She smoked cigarettes and drank whiskey. She began puffing away on cigarettes in her 20’s, and yet, no cancer. Eventually she was nearly deaf and blind but completely sharp – no dementia in sight.

If I had forever, I’m not sure what I’d do. I mean, sure, I’d continue to do what I’m doing now – art, being outdoors, writing, hanging out with friends, and staring at birds, wondering why I still can’t figure out what kind of bird I’m looking at. But I don’t want to outlive my daughter, my husband, and everyone else I love. I don’t want to wait to die. Life is pretty sweet, but also really fucking hard – sometimes remarkably so. I think I’d reach a point where I’d just be done. I’m already foggy and forgetful. I can’t imagine how I’d be at 122. Perhaps going blind and deaf helped prolong this woman’s life though. When you stop and think about it, she didn’t have to see pollution and destruction, or hear Trump’s petulance, or her roommate’s snoring.  As long as her taste buds were still working, and she was able to taste her whiskey, I’d say she was killing it.