Too young to be old

After recent visits to two consultants, they have written a summary of their findings to my GP, copied to me,  describing me as a fit 65-year-old.    "Fit" as in "healthy", I suspect, and not as in the modern meaning of "Phwoar".  [Although, far be it for me to boast, some might say I was "phwoar" too.]  OK, I'll admit to being a stone  little heavier than I should be for my height, but I keep active, do aerobics, watch my diet and, apart from this blimmin tumour growing in my stomach, I am otherwise healthy. If you squint, I look like a cross between Twiggy and Lulu and am young at heart. Everyone says I don't look as old as I am. 

The date for my operation has now been decided (to happen before my mother's unfortunately), so just imagine, I get a letter from the hospital inviting me to their "Older Person's Pre-Operation Assessment Unit designed specifically with the older person in mind.  Zimmer frames optional. I aged rapidly overnight, just with the insult of that terminology alone. I'm thinking of turning up to the appointment with low cleavage, mini-skirt and 6-inch heels to see their reaction.

Tsch. Older person indeed.