My father often repeated a quote attributed to Bette Davis: “Getting old is not for sissies.”  I saw a recent photo of myself that seemed less than flattering and I asked out loud, “When I did get so old?”  My adult daughter’s quick response was, “Only recently, Mum”.  In childhood years I am quite old, but in senior years I am still very young.  If I live to be as old as my grandmother I still have another 30 years ahead of me.

Recently my husband had a short hospital stay that was unexpectedly extended an extra night. My dilemma was that after battling heavy traffic for two hours to get to the city to retrieve him I was told that he would not being going home and would have to be picked up between 6.30 and 7.00 a.m. the next morning.  That was going to be a lot of driving and very little sleep for me and so I called my daughter who lived in the city. Apparently I sounded flustered because she immediately left work and came to get me, took me to her home, fed me, even did my laundry and provided me with a toothbrush and clean socks. I expect it to be many more years before I lose my autonomy but I think this could be seen as the initial crossover onto a long and slippery slope towards dependency.  It simply was not that long ago I was stepping in to help my own mother.

Age definitely creeps up faster the older we get, or perhaps we are creeping more slowly, and Age is an easier pill to swallow if we retain a sense of humour because Age has all sorts of impish tricks.   For instance, Continue reading “Age has all sorts of impish tricks”