I spent a couple of days in hospital last week, something, thank God, that I have experienced less than half a dozen times in my lifetime. Again, I am consumed with gratitude, admiration and affection towards the medical personnel who looked after me – especially the nurses. Both my surgeon and anaesthetist were Westmeath men so I couldn’t be in better hands! What a wonderful feeling it is (probably full of drugs!) to wake up in the recovery room and be still alive!
‘The Hermitage’ was very busy. Somebody said that a significant number of patients were there due to falls following the icy spell. Let this be a warning to all of us.
I was dropped off at the hospital at 07.00 and it was 10.00 before I went to theatre. The thoroughness of the check-in and ‘pre-op’ leaves nothing to chance. Everything is checked and rechecked several times. It is a tedious procedure but necessary and reassuring.
Then I was ready to go down. Sitting there in a cubicle, with nothing more than a back-to-front petticoat shielding my dignity from the world; one has to feel an emotion of vulnerability. After what seemed like an eternity, the warden … I mean nurse, arrived in to take me to theatre. We looked each other over and then she nearly knocked me out with her first question; “Are you mobile?” Holy God …. ‘AM I MOBILE?’ I was tempted to give an answer along the lines of a Dublin lady, the mother of a friend, when asked in hospitable, ‘How are you this morning, Margaret?’ Margaret had been a deeply religious lady all of her life and would never have used a bad word, but with the onset of dementia, bizarrely, her language became rather colourful and very funny because of being so out of character. It was a black junior doctor who asked how his patient was this morning, and the popular young doctor shook with mirth all day as he retold Margaret’s reply; “Get your black a##e into this bed and I’ll show you how I am!”
“Are you mobile?” “I am mobile enough to hike across the Pyrenees last September”, I replied. When the very efficient and helpful nurse said that she wouldn’t be able to do that, I felt honour had been restored and I had regained the initiative!
Let’s face it: I know that somebody in their 80th year is old – so I am old. The good thing about all this is that the older I get, the more I love and cherish every single day. I know that no matter how well it goes, there are only so many days left. (Of course that can be said about life at any age) I do not waste any day.
There is no shame in being old. On the contrary, old age should be an exalted state and ‘elders’ valued like they used to be in bygone ages. Ageism is a relatively new thing – and it has become such a problem that a 2021 global report by the WHO found that age stereotyping is now internalised by children as young as four.
But it is up to us to show them the error of their ways! We can be ourselves; be a bit dashing and daring if we choose. Old people are whatever they are going to be – so there is no need to pretend or do anything other than be ourselves. This is a ‘fun time!’
Yes, of course there is a price to pay for everything; and there is a price to pay for the privilege of living through old age. We pay with more physical ailments and more time attending the funerals of dear friends. This is the normal cycle of life and only we, the lucky ones, can see it through. ‘Yesterday is gone, forget it; tomorrow didn’t come, don’t worry; today is here, get busy!’
Unfortunately not all old people embrace the prospect … or rather they do embrace their age for a different reason. There are those who couldn’t wait for it so they might do nothing, be a victim, act helpless and play the poor me. This moaning minority is what gets old age a bad name. They enjoy being miserable and making those around them miserable as well.
One more thing: There is a multi-billion industry out there, selling the fantasy that you can look young again. Don’t fall for any of it; spend your money instead on a Shannon cruise in Athlone. Your face may look weather-beaten afterwards, but you will be much happier than staring at a mirror convincing yourself that the cream is working!
Life is as good as you make it, at any age. Go for it; and when the young nurse asks if you are mobile enough to walk to the next room … give her Margaret’s answer!
Don’t Forget
Age is like love. It cannot be hidden.
