NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INCONTINENT

Teaching an Old Dog New Tricks

Avoiding life’s little pitfalls in your golden years

An old dog, new trickery. Image created in NightCafe Studio — imagined by Raine Lore

Another informative Blog Post by Martha Shatwell —

Topic: Handy Hacks for the Aged

It has just occurred to me that the word hack has many meanings, one of which is a person who is old and uninteresting. Whoever coined the phrase, old hack, had a bloody nerve — we may be old, but we are not dull!

We are so interesting; in fact, we surprise ourselves, and sometimes, our interestingness is so spur of the moment that we need help to navigate the situation we find ourselves in.

That’s where I come in!

My sister, Bertha Lipshitz, loves hacks (useful ideas, not old, uninteresting people), although she purports to love her husband, Fritz, who is decidedly dull most of the time.

Bertha recently passed on a hack she swears by.

She is an excellent seamstress but is sometimes stressed out by pins that refuse to be pushed through fabric. Bertha drags stubborn pins through her hair, and presto, the pins slide through fabric like a greased pig slides down a pole. (They do, don’t they)? I guess natural hair oil transfers to the steel pin, and…tah dah!

Recently, my arthritic fingers refused to push pins through the hems of trousers I was trying to shorten.

I must have dry hair or something!

My poor gnarled fingers managed to drag the pins through my hair — and pushed them straight into my bloody scalp!

Which, of course, it became — bloody (and infected)!

Beware! This hack can have mixed results —

If it works for you, great! If it doesn’t, let my experience be a warning that some hacks are ridiculous old wives’ tales that should be ignored.

Pinhead. Image created in NightCafe Studio — imagined by Raine Lore

Some of you ladies will have noticed how your husband’s mental acuity has diminished a little in his golden years. I’m unsure if it’s because their hearing seems to go kaput (Fritz says it’s kaputt spelled, with two ts in Germany, but we’re here, not there, right?) I told you he was boring. Truthfully, there are many things kaput/t with Fritz — haha, Fritz is on the fritz!

Back to hubby’s mental acuity.

I’m convinced Arthur doesn’t listen, although he swears he does. Perhaps his hearing aids are defective (or off), or maybe his brain is just a bit mushy these days.

Case in point:

For a couple of weeks, I reminded Arthur that I was due for a blood test to be carried out at the local hospital.

On the day, hubby dutifully drove me to the hospital, where I discovered I had left my phone at home!

Horrors!

Exiting the car, I cried, “How will we meet? With all the renovations, it’s a nightmare in that place!”

He shrugged nonchalantly and drove away, leaving me to work it out.

Typical!

I entered the main doors and advanced meaningfully toward an information desk where a lovely lady volunteer asked how she could help.

“I have to have a blood test today. I have no idea where things are in here now.”

“No worries,” she replied pleasantly. “I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you.” I breathlessly rushed to keep pace with her brisk walk through a rabbit warren of corridors until she declared we had arrived.

“Here we are,” she announced, then turned and rushed away.

Sitting in the laboratory waiting room, I stressed about how Arthur would know when to bring the car to the main entrance to pick me up.

“Oh,” I thought,” suddenly calming down, “I can depend on him to come and find the lab when he parks the car.”

I relaxed.

And waited for my turn and waited for Arthur to show …. and waited for my turn and for Arthur to show.

Cue annoying background music.

About forty-five minutes later, Arthur showed up looking slightly embarrassed, arm in arm with the lovely volunteer lady.

“There she is!” smiled the lady triumphantly, pointing in my direction.

Arthur slumped into the seat next to me.

“The lady took me to the wrong department,” he muttered.

“She was the same lady who brought me to the lab. Why would she take you to the wrong place?” I asked, fearing the answer.

“Because,” he replied sheepishly, “I asked her where they do CT Scans.”

I shook my head disbelievingly.

Arthur continued, “At the scan place, I had to give your name and birthdate, but they said you didn’t have an appointment. I insisted you did! They said you didn’t, and you must have gone home again. I said you couldn’t go without me. They suggested you’d done a runner!”

I sighed, knowing there was more.

Doing a runner seemed like a good idea.

“The volunteer lady took me back to the foyer, and then I remembered!” he cried triumphantly. “You are having a blood test!” Arthur grinned at me. “She remembered you and brought me straight here.”

Hack suggestion for dealing with befuddled elderly husbands —

Never Forget Again. Created in NightCafe Studio — imagined by Raine Lore

Elderly women have their share of issues. One that seems commonplace, yet harmless, is speaking thoughts out loud. I do this frequently — to the fruit and vegetables — in the supermarket fresh produce aisle!

There I was, blissfully alone, I thought, peering at some rather lovely mini strawberries.

“Oh, aren’t you cute!” I declared, popping a punnet into my shopping bag.

It’s worth mentioning here that Arthur usually grabs a trolley and shoots off at a fine clip around the store, hell-bent on finding the cheapest Weetbix and fluffiest bread. That’s his job! He leaves me with a shopping bag to pop things in. When I finally catch him up, he relieves me of my burden, gives me another bag and buggers off again, usually in search of the sturdiest outdoor garbage bags and most effective insect spray (so I don’t have to kill holes in the wall with a swatter).

Anyhoo, back to fruit and veg. I had just finished complimenting the baby strawberries and had turned my attention to the colourful mini capsicums, all tied up in a pretty bag.

“So colourful; I have lots of uses for you, my darlings!” I muttered joyfully.

“Bloody hell! Give me a break!” muttered an unfamiliar male voice. “If you’ve finished tete-a-tate-ing with the produce, do you think you can move aside and let me get what I want?”

I turned around, slightly chagrined that my one-sided conversation had been overheard.

“Whoops, sorry,” I offered. “Thought I was alone.”

“You’re pathetic,” he grumbled, elbowing past to reach the lettuce and silverbeet.

“Be careful how you approach the greens,” I countered. “They get bitter when they’re upset!”

Shaking off my slight embarrassment, I continued shopping until I caught up with Arthur. He seemed to have completed his dubious rounds and waited behind me as I searched for malt vinegar amongst all the vinegars known to humankind.

After several minutes of scavenging through multiple bottles, I found what I was searching for.

Triumphantly, I held the bottle high and twirled in a magnificent pirouette, neatly placing my find in the trolley.

“Whoohoo,” I cried. “Found the elusive malt vinegar!”

“But I don’t effin’ want it!” snarled the fruit and veg protagonist, now standing beside me with his trolley.

Why the hell can’t Arthur stand still for five bleeding minutes?!!

Hack suggestion for keeping husbands where you want them —

On shopping day, leave them home in front of YouTube with a packet of bickies, chips, and a Mars Bar. I guarantee they won’t move for hours, not even to help put away the fruit, veg, and vinegar.

Image created in NightCafe Studio — imagined by Raine Lore

I mentioned earlier that my sister, Bertha, is a fine seamstress, which means she spends a lot of time in shops that sell fabric, deadly pins, needles, and other sewing weapons.

For some reason, Fritz, who has no interest in sewing (or anything other than YouTube), always accompanies Bertha on shopping expeditions.

It is pertinent to mention here that Fritz’s prostrate and bladder are among his fritzed bits, causing him to sometimes release unexpectedly.

We have all learned to live with his sudden disappearances in search of the nearest dunny!

Recently, on one fabric shopping trip, Fritz suddenly disappeared with a sudden, “Oh dear!”

In time, he reappeared, urging Bertha to forget her purchases and quickly vacate the premises.

Bertha looked up in surprise to see Fritz standing awkwardly in the aisle, completely naked from the waist up. His checkered shirt was neatly tied around his waist to camouflage the evidence of a mishap.

Subterfuge in the drapery. Image created in NightCafe Studio — imagined by Raine Lore

Hack suggestion for male incontinence sufferers —

Give us all a little break and buy some fancy leak-proof undies.

Want to continue pretending you have the holding capacity of a twenty-year-old? Take an extra long-sleeved shirt with you on shopping trips.

Nobody ever needs to see that naked torso again!

I hope these hacks have been helpful. Please watch out for my further aging-friendly posts. In the likely event that it slips your mind—

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