The husband of one of my patients is who I want to be when I get older. He's 90 years old, and doesn't look much older than the weather-beaten 60 year-olds I'm used to treating. And he's not sick. He carries a cane, but he doesn't actually use it, he just carries under his arm like an umbrella. He stopped me in the hallway today and said "I forgot to tell you. A few years back, in let's see...1984 it was, when I had my fourth heart attack, the doctor told me to get more exercise and be careful. And you know what? Nine months later, I was at that doctor's funeral. He died of a heart attack. I never been to a doctor since."
There really is no correct response to that, I don't think.
But he'll be the reason his wife gets better. He's always dragging her out of bed to go on walks, and the constant exercise is great for her. I feel a little bad for her though, being married to someone twenty years older than yourself who looks like he hasn't been sick a day in his life and who is still walking up and down the stairs in the hospital for exercise while you're asleep. Amazing. I almost think that her complaints are just to get him away from her for a while.