I think I'm in the maintenance stage of life.

At least I'm taking enough maintenance drugs to qualify me for maintenance olympics.

You know what I'm talking about. It's those prescription drugs we must take on a regular basis, such as high blood pressure medicines, diabetic pills, or high cholesterol doses. I wasn't joking when recently I told a friend that I have a picnic basket full of maintenance medicines.

At my stage, my doctor tells me to exercise, restrict salt and sugar, and to avoid most of the foods I enjoy., like fried foods, fast foods, and caffeine..

Before church last Sunday, I overheard a senior citizen say she's not about to start doing a bunch of medical tests or to take chemotherapy or other such treatments.

"I'll be eighty years old on my birthday so I'm just going to enjoy what life I have left. I know where I'm going when I die, so that's good enough."

The lady is an active churchgoer and enjoys travel with her husband. She did qualify her statement to say that she might change her mind about lifesaving medical treatment "if it came right down to it," but right now she's content with the way it is.

It's true the older we get, the more we find ourselves sitting in waiting rooms or examination rooms.

Once while sitting in the eye doctor's office, I engaged in a conversation with an elderly gentleman who was waiting for his wife to complete her eye exam.

He mentioned that he and his wife had been to a visitation at a funeral home the previous night .

"That's about the sum of our entertainment nowadays," he joked. (Both are now deceased.)

He wasn't being disrespectful, but he noted that at visitations he was often able to see friends he hadn't seen in months. Even during a time of sadness, there's a fellowship among gatherings of relatives and friends, we agreed.

True, there is a national veterans competition called Golden Age Games. It is open to US military veterans age 55 and older who receive care at a Veterans Administration medical center. This year's competition was held last week in Indianapolis with over 700 participants.

But for most of us in our golden years, few win gold medals or run marathons.

We just try to hold our own.

I suppose you could call it a contest, but I prefer to call it olympic maintenance.

That's tantamount to a bronze medal around my neck.