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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
Yep, spot on. One year ago I was minding my own business and wham O. Was diagnosed with Stage 4 prostate cancer! This in spite of my PSA being a 1 at every past years physical. As the commercial used to say. Life comes at you fast!!
Always remember even the Lone Ranger had Tonto. Its okay to ask for help. Its a sign of strength not weakness.