Way back in the old days when doctors made house calls one doctor took care of the whole family. We trusted him as though he knew everything. The medical profession kept us uninformed about our medical problems. Unless you could read medical books which were in Latin there was no way for patients to learn about their illness. We had to trust our doctor and follow his orders like he was God. (I say he because I didn’t know of any women doctors, though I believe there were a few.)
When we saw the doctor, he looked in our mouth, our ears, both sides of our hands, listened to our chest, and hit our knees with a little hammer no matter what the problem was except for broken bones. If he gave us a prescription we took the medicine without question, even though the bottle had a picture of a scull and crossbones on it. Practicing medicine back then was truly an art.
Today we have a different doctor for every part of our body who hardly looks at us. When we go to the hospital there is an entirely different group of doctors we must see. In the hospital we are connected to machines with plugs and needles. Through the needles and tubes blood is drawn and/or medicine injected. Doctors, technicians or nurses look at us through electronic machines that may picture our insides, or a machine that spits out paper with markings on it for them to interpret.
Now doctors write books for us to read…lots of them. There is medical information on the television and computer (much of it tucked in-between ads). Now we– the sick patients are supposed to know enough about our care to see that the medical profession does everything right.
To all of you out there in cyberspace, what are your favorite and/or interesting things that give you enjoyment?
For me, it’s been doing the research for my latest book. Cyberspace has made it possible for me to sit at home and learn about anything I want to know. I’m happy that I am still able to function. While I have had to give up most of my social life to write, I have added a rewarding and stimulating offering of help from other writers to make it all happen.
For those of you who may not have a high school diploma, it doesn’t mean you are not smart. You have had to work harder and maybe you have gone farther than your friends who enjoy talking about their doctorates and forget to tell you what they did with them. I kept it a secret that I was a high school drop-out in my sophomore year. It wasn’t until my third book came out that I shocked a few people by giving my secret away.
Find peace within yourself, life doesn’t always go as expected. Open your mind and go with the flow. Don’t give up on your dreams, forget your lame excuses. Think about some of the things you wanted to do in your life that you never had the time to do. You are old, you are retired, your children are grown and you finally have the time. So get with it…now! Accept that your life is different. You are never too old to find something you can do that benefits something or someone. The most profited person will be you.
Lily Tomlin said “I always wanted to be somebody, but I should have been more specific.” I like what she said. Now is a good time to learn who you are or who you want to be.
So you’ve gotten elderly. So what? You are now that astute old person with those wonderful character lines. Though wise, there are still some things you have to learn. There is nothing wrong with the younger generation. True, you don’t understand their humor. Their taste in clothes looks ridiculous to you. If you are in a waiting room the rest of the people all have their heads bent down looking at a little electronic gadget that they keep touching with one finger. Or they are walking down the street with a thingamajig in their ear and talking to someone on a little phone. This is progress whether you like it or not.
Remember when you carried a boom box blasting music down the street. Or was it back farther when your flivver had a horn that played a few notes of music and you blasted it all the time? Did you wear your galoshes unfastened so they flapped with every step you took? If you were a boy did you wear your corduroys as dirty as you could make them? I remember how they smelled (really stunk). What do you suppose the older generation thought of us?
What are some of the other obnoxious things we did? Let me hear from you.