At some point in your life aging stops being an abstract idea and becomes something you feel in your bones — sometimes literally. It does not matter when that moment arrives; it lands with a kind of emotional thump.

It has happened to me now. It is hard to prepare for. My mind is still ticking but my body is wearing down, signalling limits that I certainly never agreed to. It is a shock, and it is reshaping how I see the years ahead.

Recently I read an article in the Economist about a Canadian senior who wanted to volunteer for military duty. He admitted he could not fight alongside younger soldiers, but “he still knew how to navigate the internet.”

His point was simple: aging does not erase competence. It does not erase the desire to contribute. And those looking for volunteers or part time employees should realize this simple point. There are still -competent seniors waiting for a chance to become more involved in national or community activities, and they can make meaningful contributions.

Last year when seeing my Doctor for a cortisone shot for my ailing left knee, he said to me “you look pretty good for someone your age.” Despite his friendly tone, I interpret that as a backhanded compliment. Should someone my age look less fit and wrinkled?

As I said to him, “that’s not exactly how I feel.” I did not feel like I did a decade earlier. I have not played regular golf for almost two years. My weekly indoor winter golf sessions are on perpetual hold, as my knee gives me considerable pain every time I play. I now wonder whether I will ever play golf again. I may look okay, but my body had a different view on this.

With respect to my knee, I am sorry to report that things are not improving. And the current winter conditions change everything. Uneven snow‑covered roads make walking harder. Trails are no longer an option. At this point all I can do is walk around the block with the dog – a fifteen-minute loop followed by an ice pack for my knee.

I have been going to physio off and on for 3 years now, but mobility is increasingly difficult. Physio seems to provide some short-term relief and I faithfully do my exercises each day. I use a recumbent bike in the basement. During the summer I bicycle several times around the village. Bicycle Bob they call me. But physically, things are not getting better.

To keep my mind engaged, I’ve thrown myself into a new hobby: my “Village Walks” vlogging project. It’s physically challenging, but it has opened a surprising new door — a reminder that I can still learn new technology, wrestle with modern apps and their cryptic instructions, and do something creative. It has also opened for me a new interest in history, particularly in the rural village area where we now live. The mind seems to be still relatively strong.

But two realities sit heavily with me right now.

The first is still another sad commentary on the weakness in our medical system. I am sure knee replacement would allow me to recover and participate in normal mobility activities including golf which has filled my life and given me great pleasure for over 65 years. It would also help me to walk farther and exercise more. I suspect it would also delay the uneven wear and tear I am now feeling on my legs and hips.

Given our current anemic medical system, doctors have taken on the attitude that delay is the first order of medicine. “You would be too low on the priority list”, I have been told. “Keep doing your exercises and see a physiotherapist”. Unlike doctors, and notably orthopaedic specialists, physiotherapists seem to be everywhere. Getting an appointment is easy – no three-year waits.”  

The second point that I believe needs to be said is that, despite my immobility, “I still look good for someone my age.” While this may be the visual picture my doctor sees, my current lack of mobility is actually shortening the time I have available to actively do things in my later years of life. At present, it is important to maximize life value and experiences. Not being a high enough priority on the orthopaedic visitation scale is only shortening my productive life. It is setting me up to be a greater future drain on our overtaxed medical system.

It is a sad conundrum. I am reminded of the medical system in many countries where, if you need medical attention, you simply pay for it and someone is there to provide some kind of medical solution for you. Just like the physiotherapists. Universal Medicare has become an antiquated dream.

So what do I do now? Wait for my knee to fail and then presumably be at the top of the priority list for a knee replacement? Take hard-earned pension funds from my retirement savings and buy medical treatment elsewhere for a staggeringly high fee. (This is a risk of someone without a defined pension plan or a lifetime annuity. Every pensioner in that situation worries about outliving pension savings). Aging is not a wonderful experience, but when such questions as these leave you at a crossroads in your life, what is the right thing to do?

Right now, time is not something to be casually spent waiting. Every season matters. Every year of mobility matters. And when the system tells me to wait — to simply endure — it is not just an inconvenience. It is a quiet theft of the years when I could still be living fully, contributing, exploring, and enjoying the things that I have done (or wanted to do) throughout my lifetime.

That is what weighs on me. It is not the wrinkles or the number on the calendar, but the sense that unnecessary delay is shrinking the window I have left to stay active and engaged. I do not want to spend my years sitting on the sidelines, watching my world get smaller because treatment is always “later.”

I do not really know what to decide but I view this as a “crossroads” in my aging life. A decision point. And as I age, perhaps these types of decisions will become more frequent.

What I do know is this: I am not done yet. I still have things I want to do, places I want to see, and a life I want to live on my own terms. And that, more than anything, is what makes this moment difficult. A crossroads.

The real question, then, is not “What should I do?” but rather, “How much time am I willing to lose while I wait?”