Embrace the support of those helping hands around you
No reason for seniors to reject those friendly offers of assistance
For those of us seniors who read the Dear Annie column, a couple of recent letters illustrating two opposing viewpoints were of special interest.
One correspondent wrote how, being in her 70s, she wants to be treated like everyone else, without regard to her age. However, she objected to people treating her simply as an “old person” who had nothing much to offer.
Replying to the letter, another correspondent expressed the opposing view. She said she appreciated any help offered due to her age. She had accepted, and made peace with, the passing of years.
As for me, I must admit that in the past, I would agree mainly with the first writer. Objecting to being categorized as old, I would cringe when, entering a bus, people would take one look at me, then jump up to offer me a seat. I felt as though I had a sign saying “old” hung around my neck. In the past, I had been the one offering someone a seat!
Then a few things happened to change my outlook. First, I turned 90, a milestone that made me stop and think, the first thought being that of gratitude for having reached that age.
Then daily reality took over. I had always depended on my trusty old car to take me places. Now, due to renovations, the car had to be moved from the garage and was put in temporary storage. Whereas I used to be the one offering people rides, I was now at the receiving end of offers of rides to where I needed to go. It’s a taste of what life will be like once I have to give up driving!
My relationship to my neighbours in my apartment building is also changing. Instead of exchanging friendly hellos, I find myself increasingly counting on their help.
I appreciate the lovely lady on the floor above, who whenever we meet, greets me with these friendly words: “Don’t forget, whenever you need something, just knock on my door. I am here to help. I worry about you.”
My neighbour across the hall, a longtime friend, has also been promoted to being a helper, called upon to call 911 a short while ago when I knocked on his door, covered in blood from a nasty fall.
Our relationship has become even closer as he, too, now keeps a watchful eye on me and worries whenever he hears my door bang at an unusual hour, or sees the daily newspaper hasn’t been picked up, as usual, in the morning.
And what about complete strangers lending a helping hand?
The taxi driver helping me to the door of my building, as I stumble along, sight blurred due to AMD (age-related macular degeneration) injections?
Or the nice lady, a complete stranger, who helps me step off the curb to cross the street?
Just as I was contemplating changing from “helper” into “being helped,” an interesting piece popped up on my computer. It was one of the weekly blogs, titled The Booming Life, written by a former editor, now also a senior, with whom I once worked. In it, she explores the view that helping is good, not only for the person being helped, but also for the helper who is pleased to be of service.
The above thought stuck in my mind and put a new twist on my deliberations.
Gee, I might even be doing someone a favour, allowing them to be of help!
I’m not ready to give up being a helper myself; there will always be people needing my help for whatever reason, and I’m ready to be there for them. Doing a “good deed” always gives me a good feeling.
In the meantime, bring on the helpers! If this is one of the “perks” of being old, then so be it.
Thank you, I accept.
The lovely lady on the floor above ... greets me with these friendly words: ‘Don’t forget, whenever you need something, just knock on my door.’