An excerpt from my 83 year old mother's Sunday letter to the family that I thought ought to be in print.
Well here we are back to daylight savings---did you all remember? I was due to take Margaret to 8 o'clock Mass this morning, so of course I was up at 6 o'clock to start getting ready It seems only yesterday that I was able to get six children ready for Mass in the length of time it takes me to get myself put together and out the door. But then I didn't have so many steps to take to get ready. Larry warned me when I hit 80 that it is all down hill from there, and I have to agree. First I fumble for my glasses, run to the bathroom, fight to get my Fosamax pill out of the package, back to the bathroom for my dentures, wash my face (showers now take place at night) sit down to catch my breath and watch 'This Old House' while waiting the required half hour after taking my the first pill so I can take the second pill of the day. Back to the bathroom to try to improve my looks with make-up and fix my hair--thank goodness for the new perm. Finally it is time to get dressed, but first I have to apply aspercreme and a knee support on my left knee. Then I doctor my bum right foot with a special ointment to make the needles and pins bearable. From there on it is deciding which back support I need to wear, dawn my mastectomy bra, and pick a nice pantsuit for the day. Finally at 7:30 I grab my purse, making sure my hearing device and my prayer book are accounted for and out the door to pick up Margaret , who needs a little assistance because she is having some dizzy spells. Of course she is only 94. A long paragraph, and not offered to give the younger generation dread of the more senior years, but to tell you to take care of yourselves.