And Suddenly You Have Five Doctors | Healthy Aging Series: Season 13, Chapter 4

I never planned to get old. It just happened.

Not that I’m complaining.

There is a saying that goes, “A healthy man has a thousand problems; a sick man has only one.”

And thank goodness I’m pretty healthy.

Until recently, my medical history was mostly unremarkable. And that’s not something I love to hear myself say.

As a child, I had two hospitalizations: once at eight for something my mother called croup, and the second time as a result of being trampled by a horse. I got lucky and didn’t die or have a brain injury. Yeah, I know.

After that, there were childhood immunizations, tetanus shots for stepping on nails, stitches, and a wart removal. Yuck. My parents also took us to the dentist regularly.

Then I enlisted in the Air Force. I had two full physicals. They left no stone unturned, if you catch my drift. An Air Force dentist took out my wisdom teeth when I was 20. Otherwise, aside from sinus infections, I rarely went to the clinic.

After my honorable discharge, I rarely saw a doctor. I tried to keep up with my dental care but probably went a couple of years between visits.

Through my 20s and 30s, I had few reasons to see our primary care provider (PCP). PCP. I don’t remember referring to our doctor as our PCP. Maybe that’s a more modern medical term.

Somewhere in my 40s, I was diagnosed with hypertension and prescribed medication. I’ve been on four or five different ones over the years, and I’m currently taking a low dose of amlodipine.

Of course, that meant twice-yearly doctor’s appointments and annual blood work. For the past 30 years, I’ve seen my PCP twice a year, and I’ve had more blood draws than I can count.

In my early 60s, I learned that my thyroid wasn’t working as it should. I had no symptoms, but my blood work showed an elevated TSH, and I was prescribed levothyroxine.

I’ve also had five colonoscopies at intervals ranging from three to five years, based on the number and types of polyps that were found. I’m currently on a five-year cycle.

So, by 65, I had two doctors: my PCP and my gastroenterologist. That’s about when things became more remarkable.

When I was 68, I had a serious bout of diverticulitis and was hospitalized for a couple of days for antibiotics.

A surgeon became involved in my care, recommended fiber gummies, and continued to follow me. When I later contacted her through MyChart about a possible mild flare-up, she responded immediately. She told me to call back if it got worse. It went away the next day.

Current doctor count: three.

At 69, a month before I turned 70, I experienced angina, went to the ER, and two days later received a stent. I also gained a cardiologist. I’ve seen her and her nurse practitioner twice in the past five months.

That makes four.

Doctor number five joins the list next month. My PCP was looking at my arms and hands and was concerned about sun damage. So now I’ll have a dermatologist.

And suddenly, I have five doctors.

This doesn’t count the neurologist I saw for a year because of paresthesia, which I suspect was related to COVID, or an ophthalmologist for cataract surgery I may need in the future.

And here’s the thing: I doubt I’m the only person in their 70s whose list of doctors keeps growing.

There’s some not-so-cheerful news in all this. But there’s also some mostly good news.

First, the not-so-cheerful news.

We are all going to die, and many of us are going to experience illness along the way.

As we get older, chronic conditions become increasingly common.

A study published in the CDC’s journal Preventing Chronic Disease in 2025, using 2023 survey data, found that 93% of adults 65 and older reported at least one of 12 selected chronic conditions. Nearly 79% reported two or more. Those conditions included high blood pressure, high cholesterol, arthritis, and heart disease. [1]

Those numbers don’t tell us how active or independent someone is. High blood pressure and high cholesterol can often be managed with medication. Many people continue to live active lives while managing diabetes or coronary heart disease.

I have a stent. I’m taking a statin for high cholesterol and levothyroxine for hypothyroidism.

I say all this because having a chronic condition doesn’t automatically mean giving up the things you enjoy. As I write this, I’m headed to Utah for a four-day backpacking trip with my son.

The other less-than-cheerful news is that getting older can mean more appointments, more medications, and more frustration navigating the health care system.

Care can become fragmented. You enter the era of specialists, each one ordering blood work or prescribing meds. Keeping track of who is doing what becomes a job of its own.

My wife and I work with individuals with developmental and intellectual disabilities. She’s a case manager. She’s a good one. If I needed a case manager, I would want her.

But guess what? I don’t have a case manager. I need to help coordinate my care, advocate for myself, and know when and how to contact my specialists.

I’m learning to keep track of my medications, follow up on test results, and ask questions when something isn’t clear. I have people helping me, but I also have a part to play.

So, is there any good news?

Yes. And some of it is the very thing I’ve been complaining about: all those specialists.

My own experience gives me plenty of reasons to appreciate what modern medicine can do.

An interventional cardiologist placed my stent in less than 30 minutes. When my father was my age, he had quintuple bypass surgery. That’s open-heart surgery. Our situations weren’t identical, but the contrast in our experiences struck me.

After my stent was placed, I spent two hours in recovery. My instructions included avoiding heavy lifting for one week. I started walking the next day and worked my way up to 10,000 steps a day within a week. That was my recovery; someone else’s may be different.

I once asked ChatGPT about the prospect of living another 20 years with a stent. It offered an encouraging prediction about reaching 91. I was amused, but I shouldn’t mistake that for a guarantee. Nobody can give me an expiration date.

A stent also doesn’t cure the underlying heart disease. Medication, follow-up care, and how I take care of myself still matter. [2] I have lots of things I can do to improve my chances of living another 20 years.

We also know more about what physical activity can do for us as we age. The CDC reports that regular activity supports independent living, strengthens bones, reduces fall risk, and lowers the risk of several chronic diseases. [3]

For my part, I’m choosing walking shoes over the rocking chair as often as I can.

There’s another bit of good news I want to mention: Medicare.

For me, it has been the best health insurance I’ve ever had, maybe with the exception of the Air Force.

The day my Medicare card arrived, I remember jumping up and down at the mailbox, running up the driveway, and showing it to my wife.

For me, having this coverage means that an illness doesn’t bring quite as much financial uncertainty along with it. That is a lot to be grateful for.

We also have access to an enormous amount of health information through podcasts, YouTube channels, and blogs like this one. Of course, access to information and access to good information aren’t always the same thing. I want to share what I’m learning and be willing to check it—including the encouraging things I’d like to believe.

The strange thing about aging is you wake up one day and you’re 70. That’s not as bad as it sounds.

Getting older means accepting that my body needs more attention than it once did. I can accept that without making medical appointments the center of my life.

I have lots of trails to hike, lots of YouTube videos to make, lots of blogs to write, lots of clients to support, and lots of living to do.

And on top of all that, I have five doctors helping me keep all that living going.

Sources

[1] CDC, Preventing Chronic Disease (2025). Trends in Multiple Chronic Conditions Among US Adults, By Life Stage, 2013–2023. https://www.cdc.gov/pcd/issues/2025/24_0539.htm

[2] National Heart, Lung, and Blood Institute. Living With a Stent. https://www.nhlbi.nih.gov/health/stents/living-with

[3] CDC. Physical Activity Benefits for Adults 65 or Older. https://www.cdc.gov/physical-activity-basics/health-benefits/older-adults.html