Getting Lost

A few weeks ago I got lost on my way to Foothills Sports Medicine where I have a regular exercise appointment with my physical therapist. Foothills is 7.5 miles from my house in Pointe Tapatio. It isn’t a straight shot, but close to it. I had my Android phone with me. (“Easy, peasy,” my friend Jeanne would say.)

Apparently, traffic build-up had confused my typical route. In addition — I realized later — I had had my phone switched to walking mode. And I had short-circuiting my attention and started out thinking about upcoming travel plans instead of my drive to therapy.

Whatever! I got lost.

Wandering around in my car, I was making poor decisions, crossing streets I didn’t recognize. My phone rang. It was Deandra calling from Foothills asking if I was still coming in. Jonathan was waiting for me.

Long story short. I made it in. My trainer urged me to go to the emergency room. Bruce met me and took me to Honor Health where the on-call doctor asked me a few questions (What state are we in? When is your birthday?) I was given a blood test. We went home.

What is this all about? It’s about being 82 years old and re-evaluating your place in the world.

Media has begun to take note of me and the rest of the U.S. aging population. In The Arizona Republic today the lead story this Memorial Day is entitled: A Bitter End in Assisted Living: “Not a one and done –Why dementia is difficult to diagnose and even harder to study.”

In the May 28, 2023 Sunday New York Times (p.2) “Columns and Commentary” we are told that the world’s population is aging. “As birth rates fall and life expectancies lengthen, virtually every country in the world is getting older, faster than every before,” the editors argue.

We oldsters are here. And we aren’t going anywhere.