Brucie, your post reminded me of this poem:

I'm Fine, Thank You!

There is nothing the matter with me,
I'm as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze.
My pulse is weak, and my blood is thin,
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn't be able to be on the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I'm all right.
My memory is failing, my head's in a spin
But I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

The moral is this as my tale I unfold -
That for you and me who are growing old,
It's better to say "I'm fine" with a grin,
Than to let folks know the shape we are in.

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well, my "get up and go" has got up and went.
But I really don't mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places my "get up" has been.

Old age is golden I've heard it said.
But, sometimes I wonder as I get into bed.
With my ears in the drawer, my teeth in a cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
Ere sleep overtakes me, I say to myself
"Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?"

When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick my heels over my head.
Now I am old my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.

I get up each morning and dust off my wits
And pick up the paper and read the "Obits",
If my name is still missing I know I'm not dead,
So I have a good breakfast and go back to bed.

Author Unknown