One foot in....

Health matters can be very confounding to an aging hypochondriac.  The doctors roll their eyes at you when you shuffle in with your long, hand-written list of all the things that presently ache or dribble or sting.  At this point in your life you're apparently supposed to be broken down and feel vaguely wretched all the time; you're not sick, dear, you're just old.  So how can you ever manage to discern if any one (or several) of those creaky or lumpy annoyances is actually something else?  Something real.  Something that will one day, quite unexpectedly to everyone but you who, of course, has been expecting this your whole damn life, cause you to drop down dead right in the street.

I do hope that, by some frantic calculation, I'll be able to resolve this bewildering question... before it's too late....