Two experiences just this weekend that have caused me to reflect on how age is a factor that effects how people are treated in this youth oriented society.
This weekend I volunteered to work at a Hire-A-Vet Event. Before anyone says Wow! How cool is that! I had ulterior motives. If I volunteered for Saturday’s event then I would get comp time during the week, which would give me a break from work. (BP38/40) The break happened on Thursday when the weather was awesome, at least for here, it was 72. I was able to go sit at the pool with the grandkids and enjoy the sun.
As one of my grandkids so graciously let me know as I was absorbing the sun rays…”Grandma, you don’t need to stay in all that sun, you don’t need it”…to which I replied “You mean I’m brown enough?” To which they replied “Yes”, I guess that gets back to the fact that I am Mexican. Don’t know what to think of that…but not taking the time to evaluate. Children have different concepts of what life is all about.
Now that I have rambled to cause further straying from the original point of view I was experiencing earlier…there were quite a few Vietnam Vets at this event and a few recent Iraqi Vet, it was very successful. The employers were very pleased with the quality of prepared job seeker that came in.
During the course of this event, I struck up a conversation with an older gentleman about my age, I thought, regarding my favorite subject: TEXAS. He was recalling his experience with the “big bugs” in Texas, when I then enveloped him in my “cotton picking” exaggerated adventures. Migrant workers embellishments intrigue people.(B/P 68/38) I then described a moment of a migrant worker under the hot humid Texas sun strapped to an 8ft canvas sack straddled over 2ft tall cotton plants brimming with cotton blossoms with white flowing cotton and prickly leaves. As I was flowing along straddled to the plants picking the white fluffy cotton face down, sweat sliding down by face from the Mexican straw hat on top of my thick black hair…I come to an abrupt stop as I hear a rattle sound a couple of plants ahead of me and I slowly lift my head to see a coiled rattle snake alert ready to strike any intruder into his space. I stop breathing and cautiously took a backward step until my cotton sack stops me from moving further, I then carefully unstrapped myself from the sack not taking my eyes away from the snake and (BP 71/58) continually stepping over the cotton sack and as soon as I feel free, I turn and boogie as fast as I could back to the other cotton pickers and scream bloody murder “Vivora! Vivora!” (Snake, Snake)
I don’t know what made the guy I was telling the story to ask me “Do you mind if I ask how old you are?” Maybe he thought that migrant workers were ages ago…don’t know. I hesitated quite a lot as I try not to let people around work know how old I truly am (has nothing to do with my vanity, lol)…but as I said to him “pretty close to 60” two co-workers happened to hear that and they both responded “No way I would have never guessed.” (Moved to ICU BP50/38)
The conversation was interrupted and away we went to another meeting and found myself wondering if I had just opened myself up to some pre-judgment and I would not be looked upon as a peer but as one out the door ready for retirement.
Why would I conclude this from such a small comment…the fact that the GenX is so anxiously waiting for the retiring of most of my fellow peers to drop out and leave the work place to a younger generation, I don’t want to be part of that as I am young in this career driven world.
(Spoke to Dr. will be putting in a PIC line in his neck…has pneumonia, blood pressure needs stabilizing as it is very low, will be getting anti-biotic, has no recitation order if his heart stops, how about a tube…definitely..Make sure the kids have time to see him.)
The other incident has to do with being here at the hospital with Keary, It is Father’s day, I have not called anyone, none of the children, none of the people at church, no family. Why…I really don’t want to spoil their Father’s Day with their own families. Our kids have been so traumatized one Father’s Day, in fact 1991 about the only one that wasn’t was Cathy. That time Keary had a stroke
Getting back to the “incident”, I was speaking to the Nurse (Wes), and he made a comment how he didn’t know why the Dr had not been in yet. And it occurred to me that we had reached another milestone in Keary’s illness. Because Keary had no IV in him and he was not in duress he became another one of the “old” people we see being transported from the Nursing homes.
It hit me so hard. I expressed my feelings to Wes..which I will paraphrase: I just came to the realization that we have become one of those old people where the Medical world becomes complacent in their care. Being put in the back shelf because we have nothing exciting to deal with or out of the box challenges other than age and “typical “ old people stuff. I see this so often when I come into the ER.
I admit I cried…it made Wes uncomfortable but I told him he did not have to offer me comfort I did not expect any. I had just had a moment of realization and another crossroads we have come to in our life journey. I washed my face after a brief private moment provided by Wes when he closed the curtain to Keary's room.
(BP 108/58)I just spoke to most of you, left messages for Calixta and Alex, sorry I could not talk to ya. But Keary is stabilized and is in ICU doing better. I know that at times I become somewhat robotic and I think that is how I look at dealing with Keary’s illness. It breaks my heart to see him suffer and I cannot convey how he is feeling, I can only convey what is happening in medical terms.
Ciria asked what exactly happened, I really don’t know how much to share. If I share too much I feel that I am taking away from Dad’s dignity…also he is my loved one…there is so much I feel when I see him suffer that in no way do I want to convey this to my kids. Not because I don’t want you to know but I guess I want to protect you from the hurt you may feel, which is quite ironic because I would be completely mad if my sister did that to me if it was my dad.
Of course I know that my mom would probably give me gory details and I don’t think that is for our benefit but for her so she can be appreciated for what she handles and endures. She toot’s her own horn! AHA! Maybe I don’t want to be perceived to be like my mother. That has been my ultimate goal, not to be a mother and wife like my mother. Interesting huh?
Or the other truth that bothers me at times…are we all tired of waiting and continually dealing with near death experiences?
Now I understand when I was younger and older people told me that their bodies did not reflect their spirits...and here I am almost 59 and I feel like I am 36 at the most. Life is a journey and I really don't want to get off...I hope the Gen X'ers will let me stay on.
Mom I think of you as 36 too! Thank you for all you do for all of us and for dad. You are an amazing woman.
Posted by: ciria | June 16, 2008 at 06:04 AM
I get all your frustrations. It is very hard to live away from you because I always so desperately want to help...sigh...i love you Mom and Dad.
Posted by: CathyB | June 16, 2008 at 12:11 PM
I had to read this over for a third time before I finally understood what (BP Y/X) stood for. I guess you had to be conscious in order for this to really take affect on a person.
Dear loved one, in case our children do not understand yet, "You are one amazing and cherished person. The only other person I have so much confidence in is Our Savior."
Love Keary
Posted by: Keary | June 19, 2008 at 11:42 AM