Operating Heavy Machinery

Although I try to deny it, the truth is that my mental sharpness has declined. I used to be a whiz at so called executive functioning -- I did several things at once, all competently. Lately, I try not to whistle while I walk for fear of tripping... Wifey has it even worse. The running joke is that she'll pre decease me, and likely from a stupid accident. The joke sadly is becoming closer to reality. Still, I just pulled a senile stunt that has me shaking my aging head. A few weeks ago, Loni sent an email inviting us to a birthday celebration for my friend Mike, in Key Largo. The running joke with Loni parties is that they're ALWAYS surprise parties -- Wifey even commented, wryly, about THIS year's surprise party for Mike. No I answered, no surprise this time -- just a get together in Key Largo for Saturday July 20th. I emailed Loni that we couldn't make it, as Dr. Barry's 50th is coming up, and we already made plans to have dinner with Eric and Dana somewhere in Broward. But maybe we could come to Key Largo Sunday. Loni emailed back that would be great. Mike called for another reason, and I told him about our plans. He seemed , well, surprised. Today I called to confirm, and he told me he had no idea about the Key LArgo party until I mentioned it -- I had RUINED the surprise! No way, I replied -- I would testify that there was no mention of "surprise" in the email. I was sure of it. And so I went back and checked. The title of the invite said "Mike's Key Largo Surprise Birthday Bash." "Surprise" was even underlined. I profusely apologized to Loni. Mike laughed it off. Like me, he enjoys celebrating bigger on the 5s and 0s -- and turning 52 is no big deal to him. Still, I feel awful... I truly don't see how surgeons operate past, say, 60. Or how other doctors keep their patients' histories straight. Life is truly a young person's game. Wifey and I told D1 that fact just last night -- she's turning 25 in November, and she's clearly in her prime of life. Yesterday we visited Wifey's father at MJH. A lady was playing piano in the social room. There were probably 50 wheel chaired residents there. Maybe 10 sang along and seemed to get into the mix of Broadway tunes and Cuban torch songs. The majority sat there and drooled their ice cream. It reinforced that no way, no how, do I want to live that long. With my declining mentation -- I just hope I make it to 60 without driving into a pole...