Better Care

Yesterday I picked my father up from Brooklyn and we drove back to Long Island. I brought in a sandwich for us to share for lunch. We ate it all and then went to sit in the living room and read. That is our usual routine. He reads, naps, reads, naps. After a few naps, we had a funny conversation. He said that if he knew he was going to live this long, he would have taken better care of himself. I looked at him and laughed. He is 96 years old. He still walks, talks, eats and has a better memory than I do. He never exercised and ate salty foods his whole life. He totally disregards the menu he has been advised to eat from the dialysis center. The people that eat healthy and exercise regularly die at an earlier age than 96. Maybe in the long run, better care is no care.