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"A Twinkle at the End" is a story about my life spanning seven decades, but imagined if I lived it in reverse. Rather than being born as an elderly infant, this story follows my life as if I died old, am reborn, and then transfigured to age in reverse.
I've been thinking about aging and have recounted some of my experiences in the context of the American healthcare industrial complex paradox-that's a lot of Xs.
Public and private health care providers are dedicated to keeping people alive and free of disease, but, at the same time, they must financially profit and maintain themselves. Nonprofit organizations can make money, but are disallowed from distributing dividends to owners and stockholders.
Meanwhile, the industry keeps its heart thumping and pumping based on continually expanding the number of patients who consume pharmaceuticals, visit doctors, and are tested by new machines. People should stay a little bit sick rather than be cured, at least from a profit-and-loss standpoint.
Now that I'm an old guy and have been sucked into hospitals and doctors' offices more than ever, I've grown increasingly distrustful of doctors and hospitals. Based on a health scare in 2013, I'm never sure if they make decisions in my best interests. I could have benefited from additional healthcare and financial advocacy.
The squeaky patient gets the bedpan. I've learned that going to the Emergency Room in an ambulance increased my chances of being admitted to the hospital by the ER doctors. Movies and TV shows have depicted ambulances and ERs as reserved for emergencies like rescuing car accident victims and triaging casualties from mass shootings.
It's different now. ERs are the first point of contact for any patient needing routine or emergency care.
So far, my life has been lucky when facing life-and-death situations. Over seven decades, I've had three close calls with mortality every 20 years or so. The most recent was after being admitted in December 2013, arising from my deathbed a few days before the 2014 Super Bowl, and recovering from an exotic lung disease I contracted because my immune system failed from working too hard.
At last check, according to the Social Security Administration actuary chart, I have 10.4 years to go, which means I will be dead when I'm 79. My next meet-up with the Grim Reaper will likely be the last.
We all have unique experiences as we move through life. Being at the top of my game has been hard work. I'd rather have a positive influence on others I meet rather than a negative one.
Alan O'Hashi
Boulder, Colorado
