Ah. The wonderful world of medical care. No offense intended, reader friends, but I am inclined to assume, believe, that most of you are in a demographic of, shall we say, mature chronological advancement.

As such, you and I have more than a little experience in the world of health care, for sure.

It has always concerned me a bit that we speak of a medical “practice.”

“Practicing” medicine.

Practicing? Mercy. After so many, many arduous years of study, training, preparing even for specialized fields, it’s still referred to as “practicing” medicine.

Now, just how would you feel if you knew the pilot of the plane you were on was “practicing” flying? Scary. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. This is Captain Intrepid, your practice pilot. Welcome to …” Let me off!

Among my more recent adventures in the wonderful world of health care was having a second installation of a cardio resynchonization therapy device. One description of this little gizmo even used the word “generator.” It sounded as if the work was done in an auto shop.

What I’m talking about here is my pacemaker. The first one was implanted in September of ’07, and the second in November of ’15.

When my doctor and I were discussing the matter a few months before the second procedure, he was really pleased to tell me that the batteries would last 10 years this time.

“Does that mean, then, that I’ll be back here in 10 years for another one?”

“Oh, no. I’m just saying the BATTERIES will last 10 years.” Well, whoop de doo.

And so on. I’m sure many of you have your stories as well. It’s part of the aging process for most of us, I guess.

So many of those with whom I shared some or much of life’s journey are gone. Those of us who remain should be grateful, of course.

Surely we owe our longevity, at least in part, to those who have been our health care providers along the way. Who have done well by us in the “practice” of medical arts.

As they say, “Practice makes perfect.”

I hope.