I recently heard a reputable medical professional say that the human body is built to work for only 40 years. That explains why on the morning of that auspicious birthday, suddenly your knees crack, your lower back sings and you are exhausted from getting up multiple times during the night to relieve your past-its-shelf-life bladder. And why your arms are no longer long enough to hold reading material at a distance at which you can actually see to read.
The main thought I had, though, was how did my grandmother live to 96? How did she walk this earth, in great form, by the way, for another 56 years? She lost a kidney along the way but otherwise her parts were all original. I have a newfound respect for her and all who outlast a machine meant to operate for only 4 short decades. Even in my early 50s, I am apparently on borrowed time. My optic nerves recognized this at 47 and quit while they were ahead. Now that I know they stuck around 7 years after their expiration date, I’m a little less angry with them. After all, they served their time.
The doctor who presented this theory, by the way, is a few months older than me. Which adds credibility to his premise. He’s not just a scientist, he knows of what he creaks.
