Tuesday, September 26, 2017
When you turn the corner into "older" several things start happening: regardless of your capacity or capability, you are now regarded as old and fuddly.
We are suddenly getting glossy flyers from a new (read expensive) retirement community that obviously caters to the rich, the filthy rich, and people who actually use words like luncheon and demitasse...the flyers show golfers, tanned, white haired and well groomed, smiling and laughing as they stride across the greens to the 9th hole or whatever, always a happy couple. You just know the Recreation Coordinator is a perky young thing with a clipboard and an electric smile.
Last month we got a an invitation to 'attend" one of those luncheons, RSVP, two hours of food and selling. I shudder at what these places must cost, and I suspect it's also a gated community. I also realized that we would be as out of place at that luncheon as a cow in the front hall.
We now get cheery reminders (recorded, tyvm) from the pharmacy alerting us to our prescriptions, and golly gee, it's been filled. The first few times this happened one of us hustled down the next day only to find that not only had it not been filled, it wasn't even on the list yet. Come back in two weeks, the pharmacist said.
Realtors send us invitations to 'show' our property. No. Just no.
BlueCross sends my husband yearly announcements about his blood pressure, his diabetes, and practically shouts at him in the flyer. "DO YOU KNOW YOU HAVE DIABETES? YOU NEED TO MAKE AN APPOINTMENT WITH YOUR PHYSICIAN..." yes, yes, twenty years and holding on that, we fine. What scalds me, Im the one with osteo, with reflux, with all manner of little things that someday could be big things. I have never gotten a notice from BC telling me that I need a mammogram, a diet check for the reflux, and observation by a physician for the osteoporosis. I guess, since his name is on the Blue Cross stuff first, he gets the attention.
17 years ago I bought my own car. My name, on the transaction. My money. Damn that felt good. When I went down to register it, it was listed in my husband's name. I may get over that, but not yet.
Some years ago we decided that his life insurance policy, which would come to term the year he hit 94, would be happier in our hands than in the insurance company's vault. I called. They asked if my husband was alive. I said, yes. They asked to speak to hin, to 'verfy'. sigh.
AARP keeps inviting us to join. When we were first married, we got an invitation, which I thought was hysterically funny. I wrote to them and explained that I was 23 and my husband was 24. Come back, I suggested, in 40 years. And they did. =)
Soon enough, flyers from nursing homes, Estate planners, low income housing, and funeral homes. In case one of us died and we didnt know what to do with the body. I'm really looking forward to those, yep.
Posted by mittens at 9:15 PM