I HAD an enchanting conversation this morning with an elderly woman who wanted to thank her rescuer for retrieving her handbag, after she had left it in a shopping trolley. She was adamant she did not want her name published.
The reason was that, while hugely grateful to the man who stepped forward, she did not want her family to think she could not take care of herself.
It was charming and serious, because she was mildly distressed about the idea her family might think she was losing it, but her ingrained sense of manners and formality made her want to thank the man properly. She was over 90 and still relatively independent, a laudable achievement, and she was clearly proud of being so. She had done what many of us have done before - been distracted and left something valuable lying in plain view. We're so horrified at what seems like a major brain fade, but it happens at any age.
It makes me realise that I really should be more careful when you make good-natured jokes about the older members of your family about what rest home you're going to put them in and "maybe it's time" jokes when your mother confesses she forgot she had slippers on when she went to the supermarket. Jokes like that are fine when everyone's hale and hearty and robust, with your mother declaring she's not so old she can't sort you out. A cutting riposte along the lines of reorganising the will usually follows.
But, having seen my grandfather live to over 90, and declare it absolutely exhausting to do so, I realise the fear of being a burden, not only to your children, but to society in general, must be quite powerful when you are elderly. Some of the most basic aspects of our lives is being able to feed ourselves, bath ourselves, dress ourselves, but on top of that is the sense that you are functional in society - you can move from A to B. When my grandfather lost that ability (he lost his driver's licence), it led to a degradation of the basics.
