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Printed from https://web1.writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1102871
Rated: 13+ · Book · Experience · #2223922

A tentative blog to test the temperature.

#1102871 added December 3, 2025 at 9:51am
Restrictions: None
Transport
Transport

“Seven, seven,” he said, without explanation or prior reference.

It was an unusual thing to say in any circumstance but especially coming from so unimposing a figure, a slight man known usually as no more than Transport. He stood by the gurney, awaiting my reply.

Suddenly I understood. “Yes,” I replied, “I’m seventy-seven.”

It was no evidence of superior insight or gifted ability but merely information contained in the hospital’s recognition code of name and birthdate. If anything, it demonstrated a certain dexterity in the maths required to deduce age quickly from such data.

I climbed onto the gurney and lay down. “You’re doing well,” he commented.

“Yeah, I guess I’m lucky to be reasonably mobile still,” I replied.

“For your age, you’re looking good.”

I snorted. “Well, you’re the first to notice in that case. I would have said something less complimentary.”

“Not for you to judge,” he countered. “I’m better qualified.”

I thought of the years and aged faces he’d seen in that time. “Guess that’s true,” I admitted. We set off on our journey to the Land of Echocardiograms.

It was one of those conversations that revealed much more than it stated. There was the fact that old age finds itself with little to think about but the passing years. In all that hospital, the vast majority of older clients were engaged in assessing and understanding old age. And the approaching death, of course. Life becomes much simpler when its end draws near. If there are any experts at all, the most common are the aged, as focused as they are upon their own circumstances. Indeed, the hospital itself was like a concentration of such lives and thoughts, a teeming soup of the study of age.


Word count: 289

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