Physical Therapy and Immortality

If only he worked out more, my father would live forever. He believes this and he's about to prove it. He'll be 96 one month from today and he's passed his doctor's generous predictions for his longevity, given his aortic stenosis and congestive heart failure, by one year.

So my father's given up on working out in his room with his dumb bells and he's going back to physical therapy at the assisted living place where he lives. He says he can tell that it's helping him. He's stronger and feels better.

He's still on oxygen, still struggling to stay vertical, still hits the floor about once a week. I think the floor is starting to complain.

I told this story about my father's return to physical therapy and his improvement to my husband, Paul, who's been such a wonderful support during my father's brinkmanship with death over the last couple of years.

"That's great he's working out," said Paul, who's 51. "When I move up there to the nursing home, I'll join him."

I thought this was funny, so I told Saintly Brother. He said, "The difference is our father can run on fumes; Paul can't."

It's a wondrous thing what the human will can overcome.