Today, I am 65 years old and am now forced to make more decisions. I decide every morning what part of my body hurts the least, and that’s the part I throw out of bed first. When I drop things, I decide if bending over to get it is worth the struggle. Lastly, I have to decide where in a room has the least number of sharp corners in case I stumble. It seems the only decision I don’t have to make is getting older.