Scoff and toss.
For years, the Man of Steel and I did just that every time we found AARP envelopes in our mailbox. We smiled smugly at one another and said, “AARP? Us? We’re way too young for that. Not to mention that we take good care of ouselves!”
Then last week knocked the smug stuffing out of us.
The first blow landed when I got my new, lighter splint last Tuesday and was told I can’t drive for four more weeks. At least. And that I have to operate one-handed for that length of time, too. The second blow came the same day when the on-again, off-again pain under the Man of Steel’s right arm went full blown on-again and laid him out flat. As in flat-on-the-floor-on-his-back-flat-and-sort-of-comfortable, or in-excruciating-pain-in-any-other-position flat.
Between the two of us we had less than one good body.
Suddenly, we were prisoners in our own home. Reduced to begging asking people for rides to the store and doctor’s office. Wondering when to call our kids to beg ask them to drop everything to help us. Not wanting to shift from being the ones who serve others to being served by others.
That was the final blow. The blow to our pride.
Admitting that now–for at least a while–we have to surrender our independence and be dependent on others. Knowing for the first time in my adult life where Blanche DuBoius was coming from when she said, “I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.” Because going from independent to dependent is a whole new reality.
A reality we hope to shed soon. Very soon.
Once we do, once we’re back on our feet, we will respond differently when to those AARP mailings. The smugness, the pride in our race to outrun aging will fade. We will no longer scoff at those reminders that will one day lose the race. We promise.
No more scoff. Just toss.
