When your husband starts talking about establishing his healthcare proxy, you sit up and take notice, have a little panic attack, and listen to the request to make sure you know exactly how to execute it. Such is the state of the second half of our lives, when health care concerns and future obstacles become more prescient than the distant far-off uncertainties they once were. After a shudder, and the stark, dim portal of possibility that the discussion opens up, I watch Andy as he reads over the document. Sitting in his usual corner of the couch, and peering down through his glasses, he studies and deliberates. Like wills and funeral plans, a healthcare proxy is not something I particularly enjoy thinking about or dwelling upon, but at our age it must be done. This is what happens when we get older. These are things that must be faced, and it’s better to do it sooner than later, when the absence of such preparation might make for an additional burden to bear.
It’s the same stuff of 401k’s and deferred compensation and retirement planning – dull and duller and oh-so-vital when their time comes. With Andy’s health issues, that time is now, and I can no longer pretend that our charmed lives are without care or worry. I don’t talk about that serious stuff here, but maybe I should, to a certain extent. There’s something to be said for a shared burden. There’s also something to be said for a modicum of privacy. We straddle the fine line between them, seeking solace and comfort without wanting to add to anyone else’s concern.
We are all growing up, whether we want to or not. It’s easier if we do it together.
