Notes from ‘ the old woman next door’

Alice Lukacs reflects on our seemingly interminable winter and aging.

The fellow from the cable company came to install optic cables in the building. My next- door neighbour, before leaving on holidays, had left his apartment keys with Michelle, who lives across the hall from me. Since Michelle had to go shopping, she handed me the keys to let the cable installer into the neighbouring apartment, which I did. When Michelle returned, she stopped by the apartment and the installer explained to her that the old woman next door had let him in. I was in the hallway and could not believe what I just heard.

The old woman next door was me.

Yet, ever since this new year started, things were happening that made me wonder if I was turning from just being me into the “old woman” this young man called me?

First, there was the 911- ambulance episode. OK, my fault. I had figured that, having failed to reorder my morning blood pressure pills, one or two — or was it three — mornings without taking them was no big deal. To my distress, I found out otherwise when, one quiet January evening, sitting in my favourite chair watching TV, I suddenly began feeling dizzy. Getting up, my body tilted sideways and I had trouble walking. I picked up the phone and called 811 where the nurse, listening to my symptoms and telling me to take my pulse for 30 seconds ( I counted 60 beats), advised me to call the ambulance right away, which I did.

I just had time to get dressed and prepare a few necessities when there was a knock on the door and several hefty men marched in. After being checked out by the paramedic, I was put on the gurney and wheeled down to the waiting ambulance.

Thoughts zoomed through my mind as the ambulance raced toward the Jewish General Hospital in the cold January night. This had never happened to me before. I remembered my friend John who one day left the building in similar circumstances and never returned. Will this be my fate, too?

After a night spent at the hospital’s brand- new Emergency Department where I was thoroughly examined, I was discharged with the admonition to never again omit taking my medication, so as not to experience another spike in blood pressure.

If I needed more encouragement to faithfully take and promptly renew my prescriptions, I got it when I arrived home and checked my symptoms online — dizziness, loss of balance, unsteady walking. They were warning signs of a stroke!

This little incident behind me, February brought on a cold and ugly cough. Off I went to the Queen Elizabeth Health Complex where X- rays were taken and my condition was diagnosed as bronchitis for which antibiotics and inhalers were prescribed. Puffing on the inhalers was also a new experience for me, as was dealing with their side effects — dizziness from one, hoarseness from the other. But they worked.

But illness was not the only reason to rob me of my independence and change my routine over the past months. As everyone knows, there was also the weather. I deemed it impossible to go out on some days — though some of my braver contemporaries did, facing fierce winds in 30- below- zero weather and armed with ski poles to navigate icy streets.

For me, there were no such trips. Ordering in and home delivery became the new routine, as I was stuck indoors day after day, cancelling activities. Expenses, too, spiralled. Taxis took me to medical appointments. Placing telephone orders for groceries, I giddily ordered way beyond my weekly budget. I used my credit card more frequently as I hung on to cash — who knows when I can get to the bank again?

There were other losses of independence, too. I usually walk the few steps leading to my hairdresser Toni’s shop next door. This winter, I hung on for dear life to the arm of the nice assistant who came to pick me up and escort me home, as we made our way through ice and snow.

My car’s giving up the ghost was the last straw in this sorry tale. Sitting in our ( unheated) garage, I had full confidence that it would start up, as usual, even though I had not used it for weeks. Not so. It was once again working fine, after a boost from CAA and a battery recharge at the garage. Here again, as with the medication, I had learned my lesson — pay attention, start and use the car frequently.

No wonder, then, that this winter made me feel older and shattered my self- confidence somewhat. You would think the cable guy calling me an “old woman” summed it all up. But, on second thought, I disagree.

Margaret Atwood put it so well in one of her short stories, in her book Moral Disorder, saying that she will not “impersonate” anyone. That thought stuck in my mind.

No matter how old I am, I, too, refuse to impersonate anyone. Least of all that old woman next door.