fracture movie

Felt a little short of breath the other day, walking up a hill. Uh-oh. A nugget of worry lodged for a moment in my mind. At 50-something, I’m in decent enough shape. I don’t smoke. I walk several miles most days, and I can still beat my 40-something friend at tennis. Not exactly a candidate for a heart attack. But still. I’ve read all those stories about women like me, the ones with no risk factors for cardiac disease who were suddenly hit with an attack.
Maybe you’ve had the same worries — wondered whether some sharp little twinge was heartburn or a heart attack, whether that nasty headache was caused by tension or a stroke. Almost everyone I know who has hit middle age spends a certain amount of time fretting about this or that ailment. My husband and friends and I used to talk about politics, science, religion, kids. Now no dinner party is complete without at least a few minutes’ discussion of cholesterol levels, the merits of walking vs. running, or whether or not snoring is a sign of sleep apnea.
It’s not as though we’re actually sick. Oh sure, a couple of us have high blood pressure, and a dear friend has a serious chronic disease. We all know at least one person our age who has died of cancer or a heart attack. As a medical reporter, I’ve met many people who suffer terribly from life-threatening or debilitating conditions, and I know that eventually nearly all of us will be hit with a serious illness.
But most of my friends and I, like most middle-aged Americans, are a remarkably healthy lot. If I asked my friends how long they plan to live, I’d bet they’d answer like the respondents to a recent UPI poll, which found that a majority of Americans believe they’ll live well into their 80s and beyond — even though the average U.S. life expectancy is 77. It’s not that we fear we’re in imminent danger of death, but that we think we have to be hyper-vigilant about disease to put it off as long as possible.

newamerica.net


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