Yes, I’m 70, but I didn’t ‘have a fall’. I tripped and broke a rib!
HOW very disappointing that Joe Biden, the President of the United States, has been so widely mocked after tripping on the steps of Air Force One. The 78-year-old, smart enough to win and work at the most powerful job in the world, has been humiliated for a simple stumble. It’s ageism in the extreme. ‘Having a fall’ — as it’s called, in rather disparaging tones, in reference to anyone whose youthful agility is a thing of the past — does not mean the brain or the capacity to do one’s job is in any way diminished.
How did we get to a point when age and the knowledge, experience and wisdom it brings is so undervalued in comparison with those who know little, but are young and super-fit? When they have an accident they have ‘slipped’, ‘tripped’ or ‘fallen over’. They have not ‘had a fall’. Language matters — and so does ageism.
I know this from experience, as, it appears, does Jeremy Paxman, who’s written recently about tripping, falling and breaking ribs as he was out walking his dog.
Jeremy and I are the same age, we’ve followed similar career paths and here we both are railing against the way the elderly are so often treated with contempt, rather than with the respect we deserve. Ageism has not received the attention it should. It’s covered in the Equality Act if it affects discrimination in the workplace or healthcare, but I couldn’t find it among the list of characteristics protected by the hate crime law — disability, sex, race, religion.
Last week I popped to a supermarket, completed my purchases, walked out and tripped outside the shop’s front door. Splat. Down I went, flat on my face. The blood from my bust lips poured into my mask and my chest really hurt.
Four kind men rushed to my aid. They walked me to a chemist who disinfected the lips and they all insisted they should call an ambulance. I played the strong, independent woman card and said I was OK to go home.
One sleepless night of agony, then a friend called. She insisted I go to hospital. She knew someone who had broken her ribs in a similar accident and damaged her spleen, an injury that could have proved fatal without treatment. I fought off my fear of Covid-19, called a taxi and headed for the Royal Free Hospital. I was pleasantly surprised by how much the facilities had improved since my last visit there some years ago.Ten minutes to triage, straight to X-ray, back to the socially distanced, masked waiting area and, within 20 minutes, in to see the consultant, Mr Costello, who was a delight.
He checked me all over, didn’t treat me like a ditzy, ancient crock and took me through the X-ray, pointing to the broken rib that was causing so much pain. He explained that it will heal itself after a few weeks. We discussed painkillers. Codeine would be best in the acute phase. Mr Costello wrote a prescription for a five-day course. As it was now 7pm the hospital pharmacy was shut.
I assumed I’d be able to ask a friend to pick them up from my local pharmacy. ‘Afraid not,’ said Mr Costello. ‘The hospital pharmacy seems to have something of a monopoly. You’ll have to bring back the prescription tomorrow. It’s crazy and so inconvenient for patients who are suffering. Please write about it. It’s wrong.’
It would have cost me £20 to return the next day as I was not fit to drive. I didn’t bother, but I could only think of other patients who might not be mobile enough or couldn’t afford a taxi just to pick up medication.
Age needs better respect and consideration. We older people must not be patronised or insulted. We thought it wouldn’t happen to us, but it did. And it will, inevitably, happen to you too.