Even more frightening as a never-married 65-year-old with no family even in the same state. After dislocating my artificial hip 18 months ago, lying on the floor in agony, and realizing that it was only sheer luck that my next door apartment neighbor was still up to get into my place and call an ambulance, I now have a low-level terror of what happens to me if I develop a terminal illness. My dearest friends live in other states. The closest one is an hour's drive away.