I had my regularly scheduled examination today by my very wonderful cardiologist, Dr. Nicoletta Duraban, part of the Saratoga Hospital Cardiology Group, which has done such a remarkable job of getting my heart healthy and keeping me active and obnoxious.

She is an unusual doctor; we are in sync.

We look at aging and medicine in much the same way. She takes good care of my heart, and when we meet, we talk about aging and acceptance and about the ways we look at health as I get older.

I can be quite honest with her, and unlike most of the male doctors I have known, she is patient, and she listens and helps me understand what I can and can’t do and should and shouldn’t expect.

Her suggestions are almost never about pills, more often about perspective and acceptance.

I told her that this was a complex time in my life. I feel my body changing all the time – teeth, legs, arms, organs. I take a lot of pills and sometimes get drowsy. I wouldn’t say I like that.

Most of the people she sees, she said, complain about getting older, and many seem drained and discouraged. I notice when she sees me, she decides instantly if I am in good shape or not.

She says I look happy, and before seeing me today, she looked at my blog and said I seemed happy and engaged,  active and busy. That was what she most wanted to see in a heart patient, she said. So many of her patients are not that way.

She is one of those doctors who believe happy people are healthy people. She looks for vitality first.

I asked her about the soreness in my legs and the cramps I sometimes get.

“My parents are your age,” she said, “both in their mid-seventies. Some days they feel like they’re 40, sometimes they feel like they are 100.”

I get that, I feel that sometimes.

I am fortunate. I love my life more than I have ever loved my life, and my love for Maria only grows and deepens. I love my blog and my photography and my dogs and the farm and the Mansion and Bishop Maginn High School and my new Amish family.

I was touched by Dr. Daraban’s taking the trouble to look at my blog before my scheduled exams. She wants to see that I’m busy and active. It helps me to see my life in a healthy and accepting way.

She knows her stuff; when things are not right, she’s all over it. So I had a good report. Things are right.

In a sense, I am learning that is the very definition of healthy – a sense of engagement and relevance and meaning in the world, days that are too full in the best sense of the word, and an ability to change and soften the lives of people.

And also about rest, going to the bathroom, hurting when I bend over.

I’m writing more, and I think, better than ever. I never thought I’d say that at 73.

She orders all the usual tests – no doctor in America can walk away from that – but she doesn’t proscribe medicine for things that are just a part of life.

In so doing, she is teaching me about life.

This morning, I gave her one of the Amish bracelets I’ve been wearing. She said her daughter would love it.

I called Maria and told her that Dr. Daraban said she was pleased about my heart. Maria was thrilled to hear that.

But I said there was still something sad about getting older; I couldn’t deny it or dismiss it or sugarcoat it.

As I told Dr. Daraban, getting old is not one thing, but many things. Sadness that my body can’t do things it always did, sadness that something hurts for much of the time, gratitude and joy over the things that I can do and love to do and am lucky to do.

That’s the mystical mix about aging, I told Dr. Daraban.

Like death, it can be sad but not only sad. If you keep your eyes and heart open, it can be rich and filled with meaning and joy.

I was terrible at being young.

As I get older, I am just beginning to learn how to love and be a human being. I hope I have some time to use that well.

I have to thank my heart for that and Dr. Daraban for respecting my heart and taking such good care of it. I’ll worry the day she comes in and looks at me and doesn’t nod and smile.

The older I get, the more I value acceptance. There is not a pill for joy; there is not a pill for aging. I have to work hard at both, and I will, to the very end.

“You’re in great shape,” she said., looking at my vitals and listening to my heart.  “I’m very happy.”

I asked one more question: I wondered why I wasn’t losing more weight; I exercise all the time and eat carefully.

She smiled and closed her laptop. “Don’t worry about it,” you’re getting older and are on a lot of pills. Just don’t worry about it; you are healthy and doing fine. Stay active, and I don’t need to see you for six months.”

I have two doctors I very much look forward to seeing: Dr. Daraban and Amy Eldridge, my primary caregiver.

I appreciate their willingness to talk to me and to listen to me. I look forward to talking with them. They each ground me in different ways, mostly by not accepting pathos or unrealistic expectations.

Older people almost never get to talk about aging, and it makes such a difference not to feel all alone with it.

They both help me to understand that when all is said and done, health is not only about data and pills. Health is not just about having a healthy heart but using it wisely and well.

I’ve spent a lot of time in the health care system over the past year or two, and every single time I’ve ended up happy and healthier. Getting old can be challenging.

Living fully is exhilarating and rewarding.