The End of The World?

As a lifelong "baby boomer," I've been accustomed to the notion of "forever young."   Generally, this relates to the idea that inside my body is a young person, personified by me as, say, a 21 year old.   Or maybe 19 year old.   Somewhere around there.   For decades, I've taken in the world around me filtered by my forever-21 eyes.


Something awful has happened.   Recently, an acquaintance has been diagnosed with a form of leukemia and will need some type of bone marrow transplant, and while awful, that's not the point of my post.   A local drive began to sign up people for the bone marrow registry.  You take a swab of your mouth, it's tested for compatibility and if you match someone, you have the opportunity to donate possibly life-saving bone marrow.  I decided to do the testing.


Unfortunately, none of the drive publicity pointed out a flaw in my plan, a most unexpected flaw.   I'm too old.   How could it be that I am too "old" to participate in a bone marrow registry?   How could it be that I am too "old" for anything?   I still crawl around on the floor to play with my grandchildren.   I still ride my bicycle regularly.   What's this too "old" crap?  Sure, I've been an AARP member since they started recruiting 50 year olds, but what's that got to do with it?


Some bureaucrat in the bone marrow registry hierarchy has decided that potential donors must be between 18 and 60 years old.   I'm 2 years late.   I have no idea why 62 year olds are not qualified to donate bone marrow, but the realization that I am too old for anything is truly alarming.  
It must be the end of the world, at least as I know it.  And I'm not so sure I feel fine.