The Wisdom of Age

While plugging my way through college, I got a part-time job at the local Medicine Shoppe in my hometown. As a pharmacy technician, my main responsibilities included filling prescriptions, shelving new inventory, and delivering prescriptions to nursing homes and those who struggled to get to the pharmacy on their own. There would be some days where deliveries would take over three hours, others would take thirty minutes.

For some older folks, I may be the only person they see each week. If their family lived elsewhere, or if they lived in an assisted living facility, over time I would grow to be a friendly familiar face. Much like grandmas and grandpas do, they would often invite me in, always offering "have a seat!" The stories I heard from these aged friends are both touching and entertaining. I hope you find these few anecdotes as precious as I have.

There was a lower income housing facility in town with tenants that were generally on the older end of the middle aged range or disabled to some capacity. There was one lady I delivered to about every other week that, under the new Medicare plan, didn't have a copay for the first few weeks. Granted these folks were on a very limited income, the first time she did have copay, she was less than willing to pay. I handed her the bag and told her that it would be $1.00 today and she started cursing. Now, this lady is about three hairs over five feet tall, no more than 115 pounds, and wearing a lot of makeup. I'm standing in this long hall way asking for $1.00 getting read the riot act for how much the government is *explitive-ing* her over. I left after finally getting her George Washington from her. But the story gets a lot better the next time I came by. I knocked on the door and waited. I knew she was home because I could hear Jeopardy blaring on the television in the background. I knocked again. All of the sudden I hear, "If you're the medicine lady, you can just wait out there! I'm on the pot right now and if I gotta pay you a bunch of money you can wait until I get finished in here!" I clipped the prescription on her door and put a dollar out of my pocket into the money bag and went on with my deliveries.

There was a lady who lived in the basement of this house in town. I don't even know how she knew the people who lived upstairs, if she knew them at all. I believe she was getting upwards in the 80s range. This woman was a piece of work. "Bless your heart my dear child," she would say about 29 times during one delivery. And it never failed, every time I was there, "You know, dear, I am a retired RN. It just makes me so happy!" Sure. Okay. This particular time I went to her home, I knocked on the door, loudly, because she was a bit hard of hearing. "I'm coming!" She repeated that call over the course of about 3 minutes. I grew a little weary of waiting, hoping that everything inside was okay. She finally came to the door with a great smile on her face. "I'm so sorry deary, but I was in the middle of my first poop in 3 days and I was afraid if I'd stop, I wouldn't go again for a long time." Three letters: T.M.I.

At a rather ritzy independent living facility in town that I delivered to nearly everyday, there was one particular lady that always invited me in for a quick chat while I was delivering. This woman was a widow, as many of the residents in these facilities are, and was totally with it. She would ask me how school was going and about life in general. This particular afternoon, I came in around 4:15 p.m. or so. She told me to come in and have a seat, so I obliged. Before I arrived, she was watching Oprah in her living room. I joined her on the couch and she started filling me in on that day's show. She said, "You know, this man and this woman had been married for 2 years before he went off to war. He got injured in Iraq and lost all strength and feeling from the waist down." I responded politely with affirmation of the travesty of their situation. She then says, "And you know the worst of it? They can't have sex. I don't know how anyone could commit themselves to a life without sex. It's a shame. I know I couldn't do it." Okay then. Very good. Thanks for the chat!

The many different conversations and experiences that I have had over time delivering prescriptions have given quite a different outlook on life. Priorities change over time, but I guess not all of them! I suppose it is true that you're only ever as old as you feel that you are.