If you’ve got kids or grandkids that are looking for a direction for future security, tell them to get into anything having to do with fixing the broken bodies and minds of us baby boomers. Our moms and dads made up for the war years and cranked us out in gobs and gobs. Now we’re all getting worn out at nearly the same time. I wish I could get paid for all the time I spend sitting around in medical facilities waiting for some young person to call out “Mr. Fuller!” in that loud voice they use because they think all of us are nearly deaf.
I can envision the day coming soon when that loud youngster calls my name for my appearance before one of the new death panels. They’ll turn me down. They’re not ready for me to die just yet. They have a bunch more misery to put me through first.