• Cliff Buchler, former Managing Editor of Caxton West Rand writes:
As a youngster I couldn’t fathom why old people abhor the word ‘old’. ‘Senior’ was latched on as if it didn’t mean old.
The antonym of senior is junior and junior means young. So no more old age homes, but rather home for seniors. Hey?
Today I’m an old man, and married to an old woman. That’s reality. And yet so many old people are in denial and refuse to admit youth is a thing of the past.
As soon as daughter witnessed her parents falling over and ready for repairs and replacements, she realised they would need a caring and practical infrastructure as they grew older.
Plan B was called for and she found us an old age home. Call it by any other name, like Senior Lifestyle Living, or Blossoming Gardens, but they remain what they are. Old age apartments (in our case). Note the layout of these flats.
The few internal doors don’t have locks, so no keys. Why? In case the old codgers fall and need outside help and access isn’t hampered by locked doors. I miss the lock on the toilet door – it’s the one place I don’t want to be disturbed. Or found for that matter. At strategic places there are bright red press buttons linking the flat to emergency centres.
Why? Because old people need special assistance.
When I look into the mirror (which I don’t do too often because Frankenstein is a frightening sight) I don’t see a youthful face. I see an old pan, weather beaten by the storms of life.
Dull eyes in deep sockets, surrounded by fleshy rivulets purple with age. But the lengths some old folk go to to try stopping what is after all, natural deterioration, is beyond belief. Using Preparation H for klapping those fleshy bits. How can a sound mind see a ‘pile shrinker’ as a beauty product? Imagine an advert with a tube of PH accompanying the punch-line, “Because you’re worth it”. A far cry from Lux.
Then there are the botoxers. The sad irony is you spot them easily. Their natural facial movements are stunted. Sure, the wrinkles are gone, but a face without emotion doesn’t strike me as being pleasing. This has prompted the cruel line, “Facelift critics say botox is too expensive – but I spoke to 50 people who just paid for the treatment, and none of them looked surprised”. Ouch. Sorry, but I’m just a pathetic old oom.
Which reminds me why youngsters call me oom. Because they respect old people. I must live with it.
