FREE NEWSLETTER
WHEN I STARTED writing for HumbleDollar, Jonathan gave me some simple but important advice: “Don’t brag about your financial situation. You want readers to like you.” Perhaps that’s one of the reasons he named his financial site HumbleDollar.
I try to follow this advice not only regarding money, but in other aspects of my life. I know how fleeting things can be—especially when it comes to health. Life can change on a dime. It can humble you.
At age 75, I’ve been fortunate with my health. I have had no major illnesses or pain that slowed me down. I could do pretty much whatever I wanted to do. However, that suddenly changed.
About a month ago, I experienced pain in my right eye, a mild headache, and nausea. I thought it might be the flu until I started seeing double.
I went to my optometrist, who said I should see a neuro-ophthalmologist. Because I have Original Medicare, I was able to see one the next day without waiting for a referral. Both physicians were paid for by Medicare and my supplemental insurance because it was a medical issue.
Without getting too far into the weeds, it was determined that one of the three cranial nerves controlling my eye movements was weakened because of temporary poor blood flow. Folks who have diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, or who are older face a higher risk of developing Microvascular Cranial Nerve Palsy.
The good news is that, in most cases, the nerve is not permanently injured and recovery occurs over six to 12 weeks. The double vision can be treated in the short term by patching either eye or attaching a temporary prism to your eyeglasses. The temporary prism is no longer working for me, so I have to use a patch.
It has been four weeks and, no pun intended, it has been a real eye-opener. I can’t drive and must rely on my wife to take me places. I’m beginning to get a taste of what it is like to lose my mobility.
I’m usually the one who does most of the shopping, so this has added more tasks to Rachel’s to-do list. We now use Amazon Prime more often to have items delivered to our house. One of my greatest fears is that I might become a burden.
When we’re out, Rachel wants to hold my hand because she’s afraid I might fall. Although I appreciate the help, it makes me feel older and weaker. I haven’t told any friends or family about my condition. I guess I have too much pride—or shame—to admit that I need help taking care of myself.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m lucky to have someone helping me through this ordeal. I have also learned something about myself.
What surprised me most is how much of my identity was wrapped up in being independent. I spent the first 10 years of my retirement taking care of my parents. I liked being the helper, not the one needing help. I liked driving, shopping, carrying things, fixing problems, and taking care of myself. Losing some of that, even temporarily, has been harder emotionally than physically.
Maybe that’s why setbacks like this humble us. They remind us that none of us is fully self-sufficient, no matter how healthy, capable, or financially secure we may feel. At some point, we all depend on others.
Rachel hasn’t complained once. She simply adjusted. She drives me where I need to go, walks a little closer beside me, and is always there to lend a helping hand. What I first saw as weakness on my part, I’m beginning to see differently. Allowing someone to help you can also be an act of trust and love.
This experience has also made me think about the future. Many of us spend years planning financially for retirement, but we don’t spend nearly as much time preparing emotionally for the possibility that someday we may need help ourselves. That may be one of retirement’s hardest lessons.
I also understand why most elderly people want to age in place. Perhaps like me, they find the emotional challenge of giving up some independence hard to fathom. But I’m beginning to realize that Rachel and I are going to need help in our later years. It comes down to what kind of help we are looking for.
We don’t just need a financial plan for when our health changes; we need a care plan. For Rachel and me, aging in place will mean redefining what help looks like. It might mean:
Most importantly, it means having difficult conversations now about what we will do if a temporary setback becomes a permanent reality. For instance, how much of our portfolio are we willing to allocate to home-health aides before considering an assisted living facility? What physical benchmarks signal that it’s time to hand over the financial reins to a trusted executor?
We spent our lives living below our means so we could build financial safety nets and not have to depend on anyone. But as it turns out, the most valuable asset we have in retirement isn’t our robust portfolio. It’s the person holding our hand when the world goes blurry.
Fortunately, my condition will likely improve with time. I’m grateful for that. But even this temporary detour has given me a deeper appreciation for good health, Medicare, my wife’s support, and the everyday abilities I once took for granted.
Life has a way of humbling all of us eventually. Maybe the best we can do is accept it with a little grace—and remember that someday, almost everyone gets a turn being the one who needs a hand.
Dennis Friedman retired from Boeing Satellite Systems after a 30-year career in manufacturing. Born in Ohio, Dennis is a California transplant with a bachelor’s degree in history and an MBA. A self-described “humble investor,” he likes reading historical novels and about personal finance. Follow Dennis on X @DMFrie and check out his earlier articles
Dennis great article and get well soon. Always nice to appreciate our circumstances knowing that you have someone there for you.
Dennis, I’m very sorry to hear about your health challenges, and wish you a speedy recovery. Your article is terrific, and touches on many important topics for those of us in retirement, or those of us with loved ones who need help. I love your sentence “Allowing someone to help you can also be an act of trust and love”. My mother was a great example of accepting help gracefully. She had helped so many people in her life, and they, and their families, were a big help to me and my family as we cared for her. Allowing them to help, and say thank you, was a final gift she gave them.
Dennis, thanks for sharing and reminding us that it’s good to be humble.
Dennis, I’m pretty healthy today, and probably will be tomorrow as well, still, denial ain’t just a river in Egypt. I suppose there are two kinds of people in the world; those that don’t need any help, and those that don’t need any help yet. I don’t want my kids to shoulder the burden of taking care of their old man. That’s one of the reasons why we don’t spend money with reckless abandon, as I hope to be able to afford to buy help for as long as possible.
Beautiful article.
Dennis…thank you for sharing your story and your insight. Your writing style is a perfect match for HumbleDollar and I look forward to your future contributions. Wishing you a full recovery!
Dennis, thank you for this, I will offer you in my prayers. People with eye problems are close to my heart with my many eye issues through my life.
As an aside, maybe your neighbors will think you and Rachel are a sweet older couple on your walks like our neighbors do. Spouse has kept me from falling on many occasions. Hang in there. Chris
Your wife is like mine. She wants to help and feels fulfilled in doing so. It frustrated my wife that I was so independent and wanted to do everything myself.
I fully understand. We are living your life only ten years further along. What I deluded myself into believing we were going to avoid is happening to us. Most weeks we are in a doctor’s office once or twice (three times next week).
Connie’s eye problems from the baseball injury now prevent her from driving. Her back issues require a cane and me holding her hand when she walks and climbing stairs is virtually impossible.
We want desperately to remain independent and not be a burden on our children, but only time will tell.
Having basic Medicare is essential with no hassle seeing any doctor. We did run into one of the new Medicare pre-authorization requirements for Connie’s back treatment, but it was approved in four days.
According to our Medicare EOBs we are spending about $14,000 a week on Connie’s treatments. You won’t hear me complain about FICA taxes or IRMAA premiums.
It’s the things we tend to take for granted that we can miss. We are hoping Connie’s treatments allow us to spend some time with our children and their families on Cape Cod, they are looking forward to a couple of weeks. A year ago it was all summer there.
Financial independence is a comforting position, but I’d trade a chunk of it for all the other important things.
I learned a lot from your piece. Thanks.
Thanks for sharing Dennis. This reminds me of the phrase, “Health is Wealth”.
Dennis, I’m so sorry this has happened to you. Thank you for your beautiful article with its honest thoughts about your experience. You’re right–serious events like yours are an “eye-opener” that make us realize how tenuous our hold on independence really is. I wish you a speedy recovery. Stick close to you physician.
Dennis, I hope your recovery continues to head in the right direction.
I really appreciate your frank and honest reflections on the emotional impact of losing a little bit of independence. Certainly not something I’m looking forward to.
Dennis, a timely and important reality check for all of us. I think about how “fleeting” good health can be as I see friends and family who are experiencing health challenges all the time. It is one of the reasons why my wife and I who have both had health issues and are both members of the World Trade Center Health Program, live our lives to enjoy the time we can with family and friends WHILE we can! My wife often rolls her eyes when I mention the “Die with Zero” book philosophy that I embrace (espouse to anyone who will listen to me) but she realizes that things could change quickly and dramatically due to an unexpected health challenge as you’ve experienced and described.
I hope you have a complete and fast recovery and you’re able to read Jonathan’s new book which Adam just reviewed (or listen to the audiobook version) soon.
Dennis, I’m glad to hear you’re on the road to recovery. Illness, in any form, is a great leveller. It forces you to reassess your priorities and deepens your appreciation for family and friends — and perhaps more tellingly, it reveals who your truly dependable friends are; the ones who will actually show up when you need them.
I discovered that first-hand when I contracted a tropical illness twelve years ago after returning from Southeast Asia. It put me in hospital and left me fatigued and weak for the best part of a year.
But coming out the other side of a difficult illness gives you a rare kind of clarity and appreciation of life. All the best for the future.