I’m past the possibility of dying young, indeed past the line of untimely demise. I’m 77. Henceforth, all my party guests will be allowed to cut the long-life noodles for easier consumption.

I have lucky genes to thank. My reproductive organs, obsolete as they may be, are intact. I’m on the verge—only on the verge—of diabetes. I do admit to body aches, joint pains and memory lapses. But I’m still functional! Well, relatively.

My concern might be outliving my resources. But human exits from, like human entrances into, this world are never up to us; they are always Somebody Else’s call, therefore always perfectly timed. So what’s there to worry about?

Deeper appreciation

The best arguments for old age are two uncles well into their 90s. Both show no signs of worry whatsoever themselves. They’re too busy savoring all the good things in their lives, past and present. The future they take on a day at a time.

They certainly inspire me to look forward to old age, with their deeper appreciation of the preciousness of life with gratitude and sans fear.

The younger of the two, Lola Enchay’s son number five, Francisco, nicknamed Pipo, has survived two wives. He prefers to live alone with a male caregiver, but lives near one of his seven children, all living in the States. He still dates, and hangs around hospitals to have his blood pressure checked far more often than needed by the prettiest nurses.

He turned 95 on March 19, the feast of St. Joseph, one of Lola’s favorite saints, but because the brother before him had already been christened Jose, called Peping, he was named Francisco. Peping will turn 97 in September.

Great-grandfathers

Peping and Pipo are great-grandfathers now, the first of five living generations. Both are hard of hearing, so they talk by e-mail and texts.

Tito Pipo had his cataracts removed last year, and can better appreciate yet nice cars and, yes, pretty nurses. Peping has to nebulize for his asthma, but the intervals are long enough to allow him a quick date himself.

There are two younger uncles still—Marquitos, 87, and Ding, who has made Australia his second home; he’ll be 85 next month. They have to contend with macular degeneration, non-life-threatening but, in order to delay complete loss of vision, requiring a regular eye injection, which literally costs an eye. Ding is lucky to be covered by Australian health benefits.

Whenever the deaf and the near-blind brothers are seated together at a table, Ding would say, “Fiesta na naman sa San Roque, kakanta ang pipe, sasayaw ang pilay, manonood ang bulag, makikinig ang binge!”

Miraculously, my Dad never went deaf, but people presumed him deaf anyway and would talk to him in a loud voice. He was spared from macular degeneration, but a stroke marred his vision all the same.

Just go along

I have learned many things from having been around my parents well in their old age. I used to tell Dad Lola was already in heaven whenever he wanted to visit her. He’d look startled and ask, “Mama’s gone? Really?” Then he would become very quiet, looking sad and lost.

I felt I owed it to him to bring him back to reality whenever he strayed, thinking that was the right thing to do. But Dr. Joven Cuanang thought it might be kinder to just go along; Dad would forget anyway, and forcing the truth on him would only confuse him, he said. So play along I did.

I’m glad I brought both parents to Dr. Cuanang because, after several sessions, Mom was discovered to be in worse physical and mental condition; she suffered from diabetes and emphysema. Dad himself suffered from dementia, but somehow kept his reasoning abilities.

Mom was four years younger than Dad, but she went in her sleep three years earlier. Dad began to look for her after that, and I remembered to be kind.

After Dr. Cuanang’s assessment of Mom, I became almost obsessed with her health, and brought her to various doctors for checkups and maintenance. She resented it: “Why do you insist on bringing me to doctors—surely at my age they’ll find something?”

One day, she just refused to go, and I didn’t insist. She looked none the worse for it, but for tiring easily—from shopping mainly.

That fateful morning, she didn’t make the SM sale she had planned to go to; she had woken up in heaven.

Long haul

Dad, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy going to the doctor’s, maybe because I had always taken him to lunch first. Our last time to visit Dr. Gin Laureta, Gin asked me, “Why did you bring him? Is he in pain?”

That I just wanted him checked wasn’t a good enough reason. “Don’t bring him back unless he’s in excruciating pain!”

Gin is the same doctor who refused to remove my Dad’s gallstones after they were discovered in a routine examination. “He won’t die from it, believe me.” He was right.

Dr. Ernesto Baello remained his heart doctor until his release from the hospital to go home to die.

Dad didn’t live as long as his brothers, Peping and Pipo, but he had outlived two younger brothers, Anding and Chito. He went at 92. All brothers had survived their wives.

It looks like I’m in for the long haul. Should I worry about the affordability of a longer life? Maintenance at old age is not cheap, especially since, like most older people, I have no health insurance.

Instead of worrying, I’ll just be grateful. All life is a gift from the very beginning, but old age doesn’t happen to everyone.