Bingo.

Listening to him, the symptoms I was experiencing became the sum total of life as I've known it. Less than a year away from turning 60, I was being told there is a bottom to my well of energy.

Some kick and scream and refuse to change their lifestyles because a little thing like health stands in their way. Forget the aches and pains; I'll live like I've always lived, I've heard them say. You've probably heard them, too. Maybe even said it yourself. I'll admit what I was hearing made me want to go home and kick the cat, faithful companion that she is.

Since my daughters were babies, I've loved the alone time offered by all-nighters. Their eyes would close in slumber and out came my sewing machine, fabric and thread. New outfits would be hanging on their bedroom door by the time morning came. Or I'd pick up a book I wanted to read, brew a cup of tea and settle in for undisturbed hours, not moving until the sun began to slip above the horizon.

After I began my life as a writer, the magic of moonlight and shadows proved the perfect key to unlock internal chambers and let words flow onto a blank page. The hushed hours of night also have been perfect for putting on soft music, cranking up the oven and baking a batch of cookies to send to the grandkids.

How better to squeeze each minute out of an airplane ticket and all those precious moments with family whose distance is measured by time zones than to spend every possible daylight hour visiting and catch the late-night flight home? If it means stopping three, four, five times on the resulting later-night drive so a few minutes of sleep would keep me on the right side of the yellow line and get me to work safely, so be it.

Speaking of road trips, what equals the rush of a nonstop journey with the stereo turned up, the window rolled down and the hundreds of miles of pavement rolling under the tires? If I could publish the multiple best-selling plots I've thought out between Points A and B, Grisham and Clancy would be crying in their beers. If I could have really sung back-up for Ray Charles or Aretha or shared the mic with Janis Joplin, well, who knows where I or they would be today?

And, try as I might, there's that string of long-ago years that were what rock and roll is all about. Even now, years later, individuals I vaguely remember come up to me, smile and say, "You don't remember me, but" Oh yeah, those were the days.

Years of pushing. A few more miles. A few more minutes. A little louder. A little faster.

Today, with the doctor's words rumbling around in my head, I went to Paul Banks Elementary School to watch a performance of "Rikki Tikki Timbo." I've seen it before, various members of the cast catching my eye. This afternoon, it was the gray-haired old guy under the tree with whom I most identified, even more so the lyrics, "Sleepy time can be such a bore unless you open your mouth and snore."

Then, darned if it isn't true, an application for AARP membership came in the mail. It was enough to make me burst out laughing in the post office.

If life's taught me anything, it's that moments are strung together by adventures of our own making. Some go to the moon. Some run for president. Some sail around the world. My new adventure is learning to slow down, smell the roses and get a good night's sleep. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?

McKibben Jackinsky is a reporter for the Homer News.