When I look across our quiet street from the windows beside my desk, I can see a row of terraced houses built in the 1950s. Our neighbourhood is one of the economic miracle housing estates, hastily built and quite ugly, semi-detached and terraced. Most houses have been revamped by now, some several times over. Larger windows, broader front drives, sun porches, small greenhouses, PV panels on the roof, insulation, all the mod cons of our fabulous times.
There is just the one in the middle that looks old and kind of drab but with a wonderful front yard full of flowers. Ever since we moved here almost 20 years ago, an elderly man has been living in it and we have tried completely unsuccessfully to be neighbours. I greet him every time we meet and he steadfastly looks right through me. It's not just me, he talks to almost nobody around here. Rumours are that his wife walked out on him, taking the children. Many years ago. Before my time.
He is a man of habits, obviously retired. In the mornings, I see him dumping his teabag in the compost bin, after lunch he wheels out his bicycle for a short ride, occasionally, he takes the bus to town dressed in his trench and wearing a hat. In the summer, he has a man in to do the garden and once a week, a young woman comes to clean. He must be quite old now, in his 80s, I guess. I last saw him on Good Friday walking carefully along the flowering lilac bushes at the end of the footpath.
But for the last two days, his blinds are down, the curtain of one of his upstairs windows is half drawn.
I think he died. Or is in hospital. Someone arrived and let himself into the house yesterday.
I don't know this man but I am shaken by waves of anxiety.
We are mortal. We may think we know it. But we don't.
I made R check his blood pressure twice today. 

I am working on losing that fear of having back problems forever, I am not very successful. I am not in agony, but for reasons totally out of my control I think I should deserve no pain whatsoever. The other night I watched a talk by one of the eminent medical specialists who peddle their expert knowledge on the media incl. books and dvds and stuff. He looked impressive and fatherly standing there, first on his left and then on his right leg, demonstrating how this stance improves the strength of the entire back and that we should all brush our teeth standing on one leg. Then he had the audience bounce on their heels and after another 20 mins of positive vibes and hilarious exercises,  I felt a lot better. Also, his purple trainers looked good in combination with his little round belly. On his website, he provides impressive statistics and after 20 years of proofreading medical research papers, I have developed a considerably awe of statistics. Rather: I haven't a clue. If two thirds of my fellow citizens suffer from back pain at least once every year, I should be able to handle this. That and the fact that only two percent of back pain events require surgery. Plus, I think I am owed extra credit in that category, having had spinal surgery twice in the space of 21 years.
So on good days, I am slowly getting there. As regards the back. We went walking in the woods twice now and I survived. Yesterday, I slipped and fell on my bum, hard. And I survived.
As for the other symptoms of which the ongoing weight loss seems to be most alarming to some, I quietly list them as per instructions for the next medical appointment.

They don't bother me as much as they do R (I am as brainwashed as the next woman when it comes to surprising weight loss) but overall, things are a bit all over the place and I am grateful for a world of distractions.