He’s Seventy-five Today
Mon., January 6, 07:47 AM
Last summer when I took Husband to the doctor, they asked him how old he was. I don’t answer these questions, because they’re diagnostic, not informational. And he ventured, “seventy-two?” No, I told him. “Seventy-three?” “No, remember, last January you turned seventy-four.” He thought that over for a minute and then said, “Holy sh--, I’m gonna be seventy-five!” That’s about it; you think he’s out of it, but if you get his attention…
Actually, it’s a bigger milestone than you might realize; this could have been one classic disadvantaged child. Orphaned as an infant, raised in an orphanage, working for his living at fourteen. Joined the military as soon as he turned seventeen and in the working world for fifty years. He’s a good soul, an honest man, and he made himself a life. (Yes, I helped – but he had to find me first.) Over the past ten years, he’s had multiple angioplasties and a couple of surgeries, including a hip replacement. I don’t think he realizes how fortunate he’s been. (He’s a cardiac patient who never had a heart attack because the doctor caught it before it happened.) Since he retired, he’s kind of lived in his own little world; but after he’d worked for fifty years, I figured he was entitled to a rest.
In the middle of the night the phone rang and some girl asked for H--, and “I said he doesn't come to the phone, who's calling?” And she said, “why doesn't he come to the phone,” and I told her he's an old man who doesn't hear very well. That should have given her a clue. I told her she had the wrong man.
She said, “are you his wife?” I said yes, and she said she was his wife. And I said “no, you're not, you have the wrong one.” She asked, “how do you know?” And I said “I've been married to him for thirty-five years,” and she said (in this tiny little voice) “oh, I have the wrong one.” I’ll bet the one she was looking for is younger than thirty-five.
I woke up out of a sound sleep and I had left my cordless phone in the kitchen, so I had to answer the fax phone, certain that U.D. had a problem... As a matter of fact, Husband – who just happened to be up – said, “was that U.D.?” When I told him it was some young girl saying it was his wife, he laughed. When he’s awake, he still has some sense of humor.
If I hadn't been so sleepy, I would have offered him to her – “he’s seventy-five years old, doesn't hear well, doesn't walk well, doesn't breathe well. You want to take care of him, fine. I'm tired.”
Our son came yesterday to take us out to lunch for his birthday. Anywhere he wanted. He chose to have a sandwich and coffee at Denny’s, where he’s comfortable. Whatever. If we don’t hassle him, he’ll go on forever.
