I went to visit my mom yesterday. I haven’t seen her in about 5 years. I had vowed that I would never see her again after that last time I visited with her. That time, as soon as I had walked into her room at the nursing home, she looked at me and said, “You’re fat!” When I went to see her in the hospital when she had a heart issue, she said, “You’re fat!” Ok, I don’t weigh 100 pounds anymore..Dear God, move on….So, I looked at my son the last time on our way out and said, “She is never going to see me again.” Insult after insult after insult. I was done. But, I changed my mind when my sister texted me, and said she was going downhill fast. I drove the 2 hours to see her.
I don’t think anyone is a fan of visiting a nursing home. I find it sad to the point of almost crying. I remember when we were younger and my grandmother lived in one. The people sitting in their wheelchairs in the hall used to grab at us when we made our way down the hall to her room. One time we made it down the long hall without an incident. But, then we realized Cheryl wasn’t with us. We turned around and saw that an elderly lady in a wheelchair had a death clutch on Cheryl’s wrist. Someone got her.
As we got older, and my grandmother didn’t recognize us anymore, our visits became quite infrequent. I didn’t mind driving over when I was 16 because I wanted to take the car. “Hey, I think I would like to go see Grandma, Mom. Would you take me over?” “No, you can take the car. You need the practice.” She was so easy when it came to visiting Grandma. Sometimes Grandma was pretty focused and one day told me my sweater was pretty. It was pretty. Grandma had good taste at one time. Always wore those big chunky Wilma Flintstone necklaces and earrings..Then she lived in a housecoat…. With the Wilma jewelry. Everyone seemed to live in a housecoat in those days. If you didn’t work outside the home, you wore a housecoat.
Anywho, I was the lucky one who was picked to go tell my grandmother that my father had died. She slapped me and told me to “Scat!” I just sort of laughed and said, “Well, ok…hey, I’m outta here, Grandma.” I guess old Orpha was a hand full.
But, it made me think of the whole getting older scheme of things. When I was little, I thought 35 was OLD. When I see pictures of my mom when she was 35, she looked old. I guess it didn’t help wearing the goofy hairstyles and the cat-eye glasses back then. And back then, women over 30 did not have long hair. Someone with a clipboard must have been driving around making sure that at your 30th birthday, one must cut their hair. Short. Nowadays, a lot of women wear their hair longer. Sometimes, it gets to look a little “Loretta Lynn-like”, and you know they would look much better with shorter hair. I bet it confuses guys, though. They may see a girl from behind, long flowing hair and think, “She looks good,” and when they get past her are embarrassed when they see she is in her 60′s. Haha….
Years ago, we watched Saturday Night Live and they had a commercial for long lasting batteries. They had a field full of old people, with pace-makers, standing there, smiling and waving. After 8 hours, half of them were lying on the ground. After 12, about 6 were left. I laughed so hard I cried. Only because my dad was laughing harder, and he just had a pace-maker put in. It was a classic.
I hate saying that I am in my 50′s. I don’t think I look it, I surely don’t act it, but I do feel it. There were a few things that happened that made me realized I was getting OLD.
1. Moaning- A while back I made a noise when I bent over to pick up a dropped spoon on my kitchen floor. “Ohhhhh..” as I reached to get it. Oh my God, did a slight moan just come out of my mouth? I was aghast. Why did I do that? I wasn’t in pain. It was like, Ohhh, here I go, bending over, what a feat..someone take my picture…I may die……What the hell? I hear people daily do that. Our janitor moans before each sentence. “Uggggghhhhh…Gonna be a long day, a long day….” It might be a long day if he ever actually cleaned. But, I vowed I would NEVER do a bend-moan. But, I did. So, now I am old.
2. Pill compartment thingy- I received several gag presents on my 50th birthday, among the black balloons and black icing on the cake. I had the usual menopausal coffee mugs and a saggy bra, but I really laughed when I opened the pill compartment thingy. My dad used his religiously. Well, I guess you would have to take your pills religiously…duh..I put everything away until someone else turned 50, and I was going to re-gift. It wasn’t until last fall when I couldn’t remember if I took my high blood pressure pill or not. So, I didn’t take another one and worried about it all day. So, I looked through my boxes of crap that I brought with me after my divorce, and I found the pill compartment thingy. This one is huge, I guess to make the joke funnier. But, what is really sad, is that I was excited I found it. I put my blood pressure pill, my calcium so I don’t break my hip, and Centrum vitamin so I don’t get rickets in each of the compartments. I was like a kid putting their pencils and pens in their backpack before the first day of school. I was going to like the pill compartment thingy. ….. So, now I am old.
3. Telling the same frickin stories over and over again- I am soo guilty of this. Everyone does it eventually. Unless they are really boring people who don’t do anything but hang out on facebook and write blogs…I don’t think it is because I inhaled second-hand marijuana (notice I said second hand) hazy flowing through the air smoke when I was in college and have deformed, wilting, brain cells. I just have so many people to tell stuff to. Maybe I need to start writing names on the palm of my left hand. And then up my left arm. That way I would know who I told my stories to. I know a guy who did that. Then he invented Post-It Notes. (Well, that’s how it could have happened.) So, this is a big step toward old-age. I am old.
4. Driving Reaction Time- My grandfather was the creator of traffic jams in Weirton. He had a big, dark purple Cadillac and drove 5 miles per hour. I am not really kidding. I remember one time it was taking us forever to get home, and my mom said, “Some Geezer is tying up traffic.” When we got to where the lane opened to a passing lane, we would wave when we passed Grandpa. She would then tell us not to tell Grandpa what she said. Hmmmm…I smell a good dessert coming our way after dinner. Anywho, Grandpa had to have a little red and white fishing bobber on fishing line hang down in his garage so he knew when he had to stop his car. There were numerous holes in the garage wall because he kept going. He now knew to stop when his the fishing bobber touched the emblem or front hood of his car. My dad then made one for himself and my mom. But, back to the driving reaction time. My hand eye coordination is dipping a bit. My daughter would tell me, “You had time to go, Mom”, while waiting to pull out into traffic. I just can’t get my mind made up and my foot off of the break to the gas pedal at the same time. Mental coordination issues. I am getting old.
5. Falling Asleep Sitting Up-This is THE old age mile-marker for me. I could never understand how people could possibly fall asleep sitting up. We would be visiting my father-in-law, just chatting and watching whatever they had on tv, and then you look over at him, and his head would be on his chin. I thought you would have to be exhausted to fall asleep sitting up. All you have to be is old. I am old.
In the end, I realize we all age and we all die. Some sooner than others. But, is my life over at 53? Will I continue to moan when I bend over and tell the same Monkey Story to the same people? Or will I be killed for pulling out in front of a Coke truck (that would be fitting for this Coca-Cola addict) because my reaction time sucks? 
I guess I will just have to take one day at a time.
Like it says on my pill compartment thingy.
