First, I wouldn’t much care to be referred to as an “old lady.” I’m going to have to ask you to keep that in mind as I approach the ripe old age of 60. I already choke when purchasing a “Senior Pass” at the movie theater where, apparently, age 55 is their idea of old!
There’s a reason I bring this up. I just returned from taking my elderly mother to the dentist. (I’ll concede here that 84 does qualify as elderly.) He was a very nice guy, by the way, dispelling all those rumors you may have heard about dentists. I may even switch to him myself. If I do, it will be in spite of his receptionist who flashed me her most condescending smile and mouthed, “She’s so cute,” after escorting Mom to the back room.
Cute? A freshly groomed French poodle is “cute.” A toothless, hairless, dimple-bottomed baby is “cute.” But I doubt my mother, who is succumbing to old age despite all her efforts to keep it at bay, would look upon “cute” as a compliment. Sure, she has the requisite snowy-white hair and she’s shriveled to half the size of the woman who threatened me with bodily harm if I forgot my curfew as a teenager. But she also has an I.Q. that exceeds 160, reads prolifically and can quote Thanatopsis with more ease than I can spell it.
It amazes me how many people talk to this woman like she’s a five-year-old – even the very nice dentist. After he examined her, he left her sitting in the dental chair and came out to consult me about her options, “How do you want to handle this?” he asked. I said, “Ask your patient; she’s very sharp.”
“I’ve noticed,” he said.
I’ve got to give the oral surgeon credit. He spoke directly to her. But he lost points when his young x-ray technician entered the room. I wanted to ask her how she was enjoying her firest year of high school! The conversation went something like this:
Gidget: “Okay. Let’s hop down so we can take an x-ray.”
Me (laughing): “I don’t think anyone’s going to be doing any ‘hopping’ today.”
Gidget: “Huh?”
Me: “It’s a joke.”
Gidget: “Oh.” (Looking like she was sorely in need of a dictionary.)
“Gidget” then proceeds to give instructions about the x-ray, which, I’m sure my nearly deaf mother hears as “Blah Blah Blah.”
Me: “She’s very hard of hearing.” “Gidget” looks at me, confused.
Me: “She’s kind of deaf.”
As “Gidget” proceeds to get Mom situated just so for the x-ray, she neglects to point out the two-inch step-up at the base of the machine. Worst case scenario: Mom expires when the resulting broken hip fails to heal properly. Best case scenario: She returns home with multiple bruises and contusions in addition to her four extracted teeth.
Me: “Maybe you should tell her about the step up.”
Gidget: “Huh?”
After getting that issue straightened out, ”G” wants Mom to stand straight and tall, with both feet planted squarely together.
Gidget: “Put your feet closer together.” (Mom hears: “Blah Blah Blah.” )
Me: “She’s hard of hearing; you need to talk louder.”
Instead, “Gidget” bends down and manually pushes my mother’s feet together until they are touching. Mom starts to sway like a toppling ten pin.
Me: “She needs to hold on to something for balance.”
I’ll bet you’re starting to see a pattern here? If so, you’ve probably guessed “G’s” next words.
Gidget: “Huh?”
Me again: (Pointing to some handles on the machine): “Maybe you could tell her to hold onto those.”
Gidget: (Speaking to Mom very quietly): “Blah Blah Blah.”
Call it common sense. Call it common courtesy. Call it common respect for the walking One-Foot-in-the-Grave-But-Not-Yet-Dead. Why do people assume all senior citizens are senile … or suffering from dementia? I’ve checked with my doctor and she assures me that old age is not contagious (although we will all eventually succumb the malady). But white hair and wrinkles do not cause “stupid.” (I’m giving some the benefit of the doubt here.) Most individuals of the elderly persuasion have lived long, full lives, had satisfying careers, made life-altering decisions, shaped the lives of their children and others, and maybe even fought and survived a war or two.
Let’s face it. It’s no fun being dependent on a cane or a walker for mobility, or to have to impose on someone to chauffeur you to the store or the dentist – and it’s especially not fun to know people are smiling behind your back and calling you “cute.” Awww. They never chose to shrivel up like a dried plum (formerly known as prunes). They’re not “on board” with the idea of aging any more than we’ll be when it’s our turn. Some are even embarrassed about it. As my mom told the dentist (and you may quote her – After all, with an I.Q. like hers, you know it’s bound to be something profound):
“Getting old is pigeon poop.” 
Awww.
I LOVE this!! I think when I grow old, I may just say, HUH?? to everything, just to be annoying!!