I’ve come to the conclusion that change is quite difficult for me nowadays. I used to be someone who embraced change and loved doing new things. Not so much anymore. Take yesterday, for instance. . . . . . . .
Around 20 years or so I had to register with a new dentist – we had moved area. No #3 Son came with me for a first visit, he was fifteen. Afterwards, we both agreed that our new dentist must have been all of fourteen years old. (Having said that, he was quite good.) Yesterday, I had my first appointment with the person who now turns out to be my new regular dentist. He looked about twelve. So here we have two propensities of senescence: – 1) Disliking change; and 2) Persons in positions of importance seem even younger. To be fair, he was a competent and pleasant young man.
Was there an intake of breath when you heard me refer to senescence? Don’t worry, it’s not that I have gone mad in my pre-Birthday month and am admitting that seventy is indeed old age. Rather, bedtime reading at the moment is What are old people for? by WH Thomas. And I am on the chapter which equates adolescence with senescence. Real old age is saved for the term Elderhood. It has some interesting ideas about Elders being important for the well-being of the world. But I am not quite convinced yet – we get too much of the other kind of publicity on the media – you know, about how dire it is that by 2020 25% of the UK population will be over 20.
One thing that sticks in mind is the author’s assertion that when we are in the prime of life we should be happy to look after Older People, so that our descendants will be equally happy to shoulder the financial responsibility for us in turn. It sounds very like the moral requirement to treat others as you wish to be treated yourselves.
Philosophising over – it’s time for Dance Class!
I have intended to read that book ever since Ronni wrote about it on her Time Goes By blog. You jogged my memory of my “want to.” Seeing the effects of segregating and warehousing elders has been painful.
I am thankful that my mother and my husband’s mother had financial resources through years of modest and careful spending that they had resources to go and to do things they wanted to do in their active elder years. And as their ability to cope totally on their own decreased, we and our siblings were able to share care. After my stroke, some dear cousins stepped up to help my mom get to doctor’s appointments. During the seven months she lived after I got out of the hospital, a sister-in-law and my husband took me on the 180-mile round trip several times a week to spend a morning or a day with her.
The intimacy of assisting a loved one in those final years established an even closer connection and was a gift and a model for me for living with trust in God through the very end of life on Earth.
Inevitable transitions will not get me down…at least that is what I am saying at this time in my life.
Not read the one yet that says 70 is the new 50! I’ll go for that as long as possible.
AS long as you can dance, you are okay!!