A Senior Moment

I spent Friday afternoon and Saturday morning visiting at a Senior Living Development. Not a Sun City Del Webb spread with sidewalks, lawns, and a golf course. This was nice but more of your college graduate dorm type campus.

My hostess was a woman in her eighties who is an amazing and prolific artist whose work I had seen only once before and so had determined to visit.  It was a 5 hour hike down
I-75 but well worth the effort.  Bless her heart, she not only schooled me in technical aspects of her medium, she also arranged for housing and had me join her for dinner in their residential dining room.

Now, in my work, I'm around elderly people off and on all day every work day of every week.  But this qualified as an immersion experience.  And at that I have just two things to relay to any of you who plan to get older: First, I highly recommend at least a one night stay in a senior community to get the full effect of a living experience which may be in your future. Second, it's never too early to start thinking about where you want to be on your 81st birthday.  I can tell you this much for certain, getting old is expensive!

The weird part was this: The longer I remained in that environment the more pre-occupied I became with the effects of aging.  By the time I climbed in my bed in the generously provided guest quarters I was starting to freak out and think about things like, "I hope Alzheimer's isn't contagious." "I hope the decline with age isn't in any way accelerated by exposure."  It took me an hour to fall asleep and I was awake by 3:30AM.  I did the math: A four hour "nap."  Oh my God, no! Inability to sleep. That's one of the things that happens when you get old!

By 9:30 my oatmeal and coffee was down the hatch and I was en route home.  I stopped on my way out of town, re-fueled, and grabbed another coffee.  That's when it happened. I drove out of the gas station with the hose still attached to the tank of the truck and ripped the hose out of the pump. Holy Sh*t! I have never done anything like that before. I laughed at the moment as I replaced the disarticulated hose back on the pump. (The attendant was, by now, out the door. She said "thank you" and waved as I placed the dead limb back on the rack [ Thank you? Does this happen all the time?].) But as I drove toward home the smile quickly turned to an expression of sickening worry.  The thought of it dogged and haunted me for over 200 miles: It's happening. I've never forgotten the hose before. The cap, maybe. But never the hose!

Safely home I can charge the episode to being distracted by an engaging visit, limited sleep, and an incoming call which arrived moments before I climbed back in the truck.  I think so. I hope so. But I'm going to try to remember to keep my eyes open and my wits about me for a bit. It's too early to be certain I'm in remission.