Maintenance

I grew up in a car family.  When I was away at graduate school my dad would phone and say, “Hi honey, how’s the car running?”  Only after inquiring as to the timing of my last oil change, would he ask, “How are you doing otherwise?” 

I didn’t take it personally.  The retired owner of a cab and ambulance company took his transportation seriously.  “Fleet maintenance,” was central to his view of caring for others.

With age Dad approached his health care much as he did the maintenance of an old vehicle.  For general well being, he swam every day at his Elks Lodge.  Shoulder bad?  Fix it!  Back sore?  Chiropractic!  And when all noninvasive methods failed, he said, “Yes, do it,” to the surgeon. 

Over 20 years of living Dad had almost as many medical procedures.  Doctors cleaned out his corroded artery and stuck in a stint; scoped his knee; and near the end of his life took part of his leg. Outfitted with prosthesis, he figured he was good to go. He learned to walk all over again with the new equipment--at 80. 

When he decided on the prosthesis I asked him, “What do you think you are, a Ford?” 

“No Honey, I consider myself more like a Mercedes.”

Now I too am “of the age” when medical interventions becomes more probable.  So far my issues have been small and resolvable.  I’ve ducked surgeries, but am certainly paying more attention to maintenance.  I hope I am as fortunate as he was: to simply wear out after providing years of exceptional service.