I don’t know what I’ll do. I have been asked what my plan is. Do I have a plan, as I turn 80? Who will I live with in my old(er) age? Where will I go if I get really sick? Anything can happen.

I’ve done a little research. I suppose it’s time since I’ve been in denial for years about the inevitable.

Although my grown children have both invited me to live with them, they too have asked about my future plans. So I made a few phone calls and discovered that any facility would cost around $2,000 per month (Medicare doesn’t provide a penny). Now I get daily emails from A Place for Mom.

Years ago, a 90-year-old old friend looked at me and said, “You’re a bit of a shaman, Sheila.”

“Huh,” I responded. “Why?”

“You make things happen,” she replied. Wow, I thought.

At the Southdale Mall the other day, I stopped in the Apple Store to ask a question about my new iPhone. Then I strolled into J.Crew. I never go there. At the back of the store, in the sale section, one elegant lavender long dress hung. I figured it would never fit me; it was a size extra small. That didn’t stop me. I tried it on. I loved it. It fit!

I have a few pretty dresses to wear to my Maine birthday party, I figured. Still, I asked the salesperson to hold the dress for 24 hours. After emailing the photo to a few dear friends (why?), a reply came in a minute or two.

“This dress was made for you. Tell me how much it is! Tell me, tell me, you must get it! I’ll pay for it.It’s your birthday present!”

How could I say no? I’ll happily wear the dress to my 80th birthday party, which my children have planned at the end of June. Where we all grew up — in Southwest Harbor, Maine.

Who is a typical 80 year old? I don’t know. But I don’t think I am one. I feel stronger than ever.

I read about a new lemon with turmeric morning drink that supposedly improves all that ails you. I try new exercises to ease stress on my lymphatic system. Vagus nerve stimulation sessions relax me, as do my new beta blocker meds for hypertension, my only medical issue. I want to dance more because I’ve learned that jumping around improves bone density. I attend strength training class at the Y twice a week here in Minneapolis. And I walk, walk, walk.

I take heart in following Harvard nutrition professor Walter Willett’s (he’s also an old friend’s husband) Mediterranean diet recommendations for at least forty years.

“Almonds and olive oil,” I recall him telling me, as if he were a secret detective. I follow his advice religiously.

Guess I’ll keep doing what I do, aware that I’m in my last chapter of a very rich life.

Let the wild rumpus start!