I don't know what there is about getting older, but my datebook is filled to the brim.
Not because I'm having lunch with my sister or friends, but because my husband and I spend much more time at the doctors' offices than we do going to places we like.
We did manage to squeeze in a visit to the apple orchard. Once apple season rolls around my husband has to have them. No, he doesn't want the ones in the supermarkets, he wants the real deals. His favorites are Macouns. They weren't quite ready when we first went to the orchard but now they are and he is choppin' at the bit.
But before we can go he is having cataract surgery, which means several visits before and after to the doctor. He just had a pacemaker put in about three weeks ago, which meant several visits to the doctor.
I, in turn, are making my own visits. One to check on my pacemaker that is needing a battery replacement soon. Another to the orthopedic to check my hip. In fact, our older son calls us his bionic parents.
I've already told all the doctors that they better take care of me because I am going to my daughter's in the Western part of the state for Christmas to meet my 1-year-old great-granddaughter from Colorado for the first time. And I am not going to miss that opportunity.
Also, three of my children are coming home for Thanksgiving. The girls have promised that they are taking over completely. That was music to my ears.
So no matter what, I'll fit in all our doctors' appointments and look forward to the upcoming events.
Isn't that what happens when you reach the Golden Years?