My daughter-in-law laughed as she gave me a $2 scratch-off for my 73rd birthday. Ten months later, my own son shoved a senior living brochure in front of me and said, “We already picked your room.” They thought I was too old to fight back. They had no idea what I had been hiding.

Menon suggested strength exercises, a fall-prevention assessment for my future house, and finally following through on the swimming lessons I’d been threatening to take for years.

At the end of the visit, she said, “Having money doesn’t remove your need for friends, movement, or purpose.”

“I know,” I said.

“It just gives me more choices about where to find them.”

I joined a water-aerobics class two days later.

My first attempt was spectacularly ungraceful.

I splashed a woman beside me and apologized so many times she finally told me to stop being ridiculous.

Her name was Delia, and by the end of class we’d agreed to have lunch.