This is my favorite poem and about sums up my feelings right now.

"I'm Fine thank you"

There is nothing the matter with me
I'm as healthy as I can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
and when I talk I talk with a wheeze.

My pulse is weak and my blood is thin
but I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.
Arch supports for both of my feet
or I wouldn't be able to be on the street.

Sleep is denied me night after night
but I find in the morning that I'm all right.
My memory is failing and my heads a spin
but I'm awfully well for the shape I'm in.

The moral is this as my tale I unfold
that for you and me who are growing old,
It's better to say "I'm fine" with a grin
than to let folks know the shape we are in.

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well my "get up and go" just got up and went.
But I really don't mind when I think with a grin
of all the grand places my "get up" has been.

Old age is golden, I've heard it said;
but sometimes I wonder as I get into bed.
With my ears in a drawer and my teeth in a cup
my eyes on the table until I wake up.

Ere sleep over takes me, I say to myself,
"is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?"
When I was young my slippers were red,
I could kick up my heels over my head.

When I was older my slippers were blue
but I could still dance the whole night through.
but now that I'm old my slippers are black,
I walk to the store and puff my way back.

I get up each morning and dust off my wits
I pick up the paper and check the obits.
If my name is still missing, I know I'm not dead
so I fix me some breakfast and go back to bed.

Author Unknown.