Aging Gracefully....
Another oxymoron.
Actually, one may pull it off in one’s fifties and sixties….even the early seventies. But, come the mid-to-late-seventies, eighty for sure, grace is steadily gnawed into a ragged stump by aging. Thus, one may age…..or one may be graceful, but one, by the Great Horned Spoon, sure as you’re no spring chicken, is not doing both at the same time.
As I have grown older, I have wondered about a lot of things: For instance, just how many handicapped people are patronizing Lowe’s at any given moment?
Or, at the orthopedic clinic, and physical therapy outposts, why isn’t everyone automatically qualified for a handicap parking slot….no questions asked?
Why, in many public buildings is the handicapped access entrance forty miles from the elevator?
Speaking of public buildings, in our closest city, they may have handicapped access, but parking is scare and a football field or more away. Sometimes up or down a set of steps.
Some attention is given to the preservation of dignity as one ages. This, too, teeters on the oxymoronic edge, often as not. There’s not much dignified about hemorrhoids, or “age spots”, or depends, or getting up five times a night to pee. Actually “getting up” to pee becomes an accomplishment, if one lives long enough. In the meanwhile, the elderly are on constant guard should they laugh too hard, sneeze, trip, cough, hit a pot hole at more than twenty miles per hour, be involved in a traffic accident. Or, are suddenly startled.
It is a challenge to look dignified as one lurches across a parking lot or claws one’s way up a short set of steps. And, for the love of Heaven, don’t drop anything! Enjoy the suspense as to whether or not you can actually reach the item – let alone pick it up – coupled with the mystery of how many bodily functions you will lose control of in the process.
Failing hearing and eyesight bring their own issues. I do find that I see fewer reptiles in the garden than I used to……..and noisy neighbors are far less annoying. On the other hand, I agree to things that I never intended, plus I often ignore the appearance of a friend, while greeting total strangers with a broad smile and an effusive wave.
There are perks, without a doubt. Younger friends leap to their feet to grab whatever I am carrying, and if there’s more in the car, they go fetch it. When things must be taken to the car, they swoop in and take care of it. People are good. Twice in the past few months, nice young strangers have spontaneously offered to put my groceries in the car and haul my cart away. They didn’t mug me or anything….as best I recall. Wait staffers in many establishments are especially solicitous. Some speak especially loudly and slowly, which can initially be alarming, yet helpful in the long run.
There must be something about little old folks that inspires the young. The sight of one of us tottering toward Gomorrah, or away from it, apparently awakens filial responsibility in any but the coldest of hearts. Fall at home, and you could be in big trouble….but merely trip elsewhere and your biggest fear is being trampled to death by good Samaritans. I tripped at church. Many leaped toward me, but my hero was the friend (a farmer’s wife, who probably can toss a hay bale with one hand) who hauled me upright by the waistband of my pants. I am still in awe at her strength….and that of the waistband.
Growing older is certainly not for the faint of heart. But, if you are young and fit, do be tolerant and helpful toward your silver-haired comrades. It’s a sweet and lovely thing to do…..and we really appreciate it, although some of us may be too surprised to say it out loud at the time. So, if you see one of us starting to unload a full cart at Wegman’s, feel free to pitch in…..oh, and, do please put the cart away, too, because there’s never a cart corral right next to handicapped parking.
