Thinking About Aging

I’ve been thinking lately about aging. Mainly because I seem to have developed an annoying habit of doing it. I realize that it’s a part of the process and we are genetically to self-destruct (age), but I didn’t realize that the age of 40 was the official embarkation point for the long slide towards death. In the past year my eyesight has gotten noticeably worse. I have the beginnings of vericose veins in my legs. About everything that can ache does, and as often as possible. Enough has changed that I’ve begun to wonder if we are simply programmed to chemically throw a few switched when we reach a certain age to begin to self-destruct sequence.
I’ve actually read some things from geneticists that bears this out. That means that there is, perhaps, hope that someday scientists will find a way to stop the self-destruct sequence and perhaps even reverse the aging process. I have a feeling such technology will arrive too late to help me, but it’s nice to think about. I sure would love a couple hundred more years. My first forty have been wasted.

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