All day long the old man struggles with his body and the problems with it:
His math is not what it used to be. His back pinches when he kneels down.
His hands shake when he holds his coffee mug. Men in black clothes
extend measuring tape against his body to size his casket. And he finds
dead toenails around the house. In desperation he goes to a doctor,
sometimes weeping, begging for some kind of pill, or ointment, or injection,
and at night he falls asleep on the couch with his hands over his eyes, so
the sun does not wake him up.