There is a difference in growing older and growing older with limitations.

Just when I feel I have come to terms with ageing, it hits me in the face like a cold wet towel. I picture myself growing old but independent, driving where I want to go, spending time doing things I enjoy like writing and teaching. I see myself becoming my aunts who lived to be in their late 90s, but took care of themselves for the most part.

Having this pain that inhibits my walking has made me see things differently. I find it too difficult to stand in my kitchen and cook or clean up when I am done. I didn't expect to have this experience.

Being immobilized is more difficult than I thought it would be. I find myself mulling over whether it is necessary to go downstairs or if I can wait and make one trip serve all my purposes. When I take pain medicines, I become sleepy, and can't think straight. I certainly can't create anything new.

My older sister became disabled in her later years. She had to have help to stand, to go to the bathroom and needed help getting ready for bed and into bed each evening. I understand now how much she must have hated needing someone to push her in a wheelchair or having to ask someone to bring her a glass of water. I admire her more than ever because she never complained. She spoke as if she had hope that she would walk one day. Tears fill my eyes now as I think of her optimism. I think it wasn't until she fell and broke her hip that she realized she was not going to get well.

She was fortunate to have a husband who adored her. He waited on her and never seemed to resent it at all. Perhaps that would make it bearable, having that someone who would do anything for you. Her daughters and my sister, Gay, were also available most of the time to care for her and just to be with her.

I understand her saying to me that she was ready to go. She never said she wanted to die, but felt It was time she should pass on. She was more concerned about the ones she was leaving behind.  At 87, she felt she had lived a long life and the future was not going to get better and she did not want to linger in a nursing home. I understand now.

If I become dependent on others to take care of me all the time, I would not want to continue with life. Quality of life is more important than quantity, I believe. That is why I strongly believe in having the choice of when I want to die, to have my opinion respected if or when I have no more quality left in my future years.

From my library of books, I pulled out one that I have had a long time. When I am an Old Woman, I Shall Wear Purple, edited by Sandra Haldeman Martz, published by Paper Mache Press in 1981. My friend, Janice Townley Moore's poem, "I know the Mirrors" is in the book. Here is a small piece of the poem.

I know the mirrors that are friends,
the ones in semi-darkness that hide
the hard crease of jowl,
or the ones with the correct distance
to fade the barbed wire fence
above the lips....


The title of the book comes from this poem:
Warning
by
Jenny Joseph

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
...
But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.


The book is described as "a valuable anthology. It paints a rich picture of women as they age."
And "It is a touching tender collection of writings about being old and loving the old."

The late Bettie Sellers,  Poet Laureate of Georgia and professor at Young Harris College has a poem included: "A Letter From Elvira." This is a humorous poem.

You might think the book is all poetry, but it is not. The prose pieces are just as meaningful and interesting. I think I will go upstairs now and read some of them tonight.