Friday, October 27, 2017
Don't grow old. It's no fun.
Found myself sitting next to an older woman who'd brought her husband to see the consultant in a hospital outpatients clinic today. They both struggled to get out of their chairs (hospitals need higher seats for strugglers like us) and shuffled, rather than walked. Growing old is no fun, she observed. She and I had a nice chat while he was with a nurse. It began when I admired her cane, which had a pretty silver top, like some I've seen on 'Bargain Hunt'. It was her father's, she said, and she thought he'd have been pleased that she still used it. We agreed that the families on the TV programme 'Eat Well For Less' were ridiculous. She confided that her husband, in his nineties, had dementia, so wasn't really sure why he was there. It must be difficult, I said. Yes, she said. Did she have any help? No, she said, she managed on her own. She had suggested getting someone in to help him dress, but he wouldn't have it, so she struggled on. I have a broad back, she said. Women do, I said. (Sorry men!) She agreed, but said that he didn't appreciate it. I didn't ask if she had any family, but she said she had some good neighbours. Just one among very many strugglers. I'd like to have given her a hug, but it wasn't appropriate. Besides, we might both have fallen over.