Checks and balances as age catches up

At 67, I’m making the most of my bonus years. Both my parents lived to around the same age I am now. When their time to depart came, they left hale and hearty without being confined to the bed even for a day. That was the end they wished for themselves and that is what I wish for myself.

I am at peace with the wonderful world around me and am full of gratitude that I am living my life as I want to. I find bliss in going about my daily chores, reading, visiting friends and also writing occasionally. The task I enjoy the most is keeping house for my daughter. This gives me pleasure and also the feeling that I am living a meaningful life by being of use to my kid who has a demanding profession and two growing daughters.

Lately, however, I am a little unhappy with the attitude of my daughter. She has started putting too many checks on me. Her warnings about my chances of falling down and breaking my old (brittle with age and difficult to repair) bones sound like threats from a triggerhappy gangster that make me shudder at times.

She scrutinises me a lot. Her gaze follows me all the time, making me feel like a criminal out on parole. Her searching gaze makes me uncomfortable and self-conscious. Many a time, her close watch makes me nervous and I act clumsy as a reaction. At my floundering moments, I see victory in her eyes and imagine hearing her voice telling me, “See mom? I am not a doctor for nothing, my fears of you getting ailments related to old age are not my imagination.”

Continuous reminders of growing older are getting on my nerves. At times, I feel like a back bencher crouching to avoid having to answer the teacher’s questions. My answer to her questions such as, if I stumble when getting up from bed or if there is a tremor or numbness in any part of my limbs, are invariably in the negative. But that doesn’t convince her. To make sure that I am not hiding anything from her, she makes me look and move my limbs the way she shows me to. I am getting fed up with her treating me like an old woman soon to be crucified.

I have tried to assure her that I am fit as a fiddle but in return I get to hear depressing stories about many my age who suffered in their ignorance and bravado.

This morning, I had an enlightening thought. I am going to tell her that unlike my parents whose death came early, all four of my grandparents lived up to the ripe age of 80. This information may rid her of the paranoia of losing her mother in the nearest future and make my life easier.

REMINDERS OF GROWING OLDER ARE GETTING ON MY NERVES. I FEEL LIKE A BACK BENCHER CROUCHING TO AVOID THE TEACHER