Cathy Rudy of Santa Fe is today's SIXOHDEAR guest blogger. Cathy is a local businesswoman. We used to lunch regularly, but her life has changed over the years as her mother requires more care than before.
This issue of parental care-giving is one that I will not have to face, however, so many of us must.
By Cathy Rudy
I still have several years to go before I reach SIXOHDEAR, but the stress of being a caregiver makes me feel like I am already one hundred and SIXOHDEAR.
A few months ago I went to Kohl's and bought a new throw rug to put at our front door. It was on sale, but rang up even less than I was expecting. I looked at the register screen and saw they had given me the senior discount, since it was Tuesday or something. I asked how old you had to be for the senior discount and the young girl would not give me a specific age. She just said she noticed my gray hair and thought she should give it to me. I would have said I didn't deserve it, but since she was not giving me a specific age, I could not prove it.
A few weeks ago I stopped at McDonald's and ordered some chicken nuggets and a drink (I need comfort food in all shapes and forms!) The young girl rang it up, then glanced at me, and said "oh," hit a bunch more keys and the total went down. Later I looked at my receipt and saw she had charged me for a "senior drink."
The best though was when I went to Albertson's and happened to be there on the day they give senior discounts. This saved me almost $10. Again I asked how old you had to be to get the discount, and the answer was nonspecific. The youngin threw out a couple numbers, all of which were higher than my current physical age. Again, I would have said I was younger than that, but it was already a done deal, and I figured for all the times Albertson's has overcharged me for *sale* items, maybe this was a way to make us even.
I did not ask for any of these discounts, but apparently I look like I deserve them. Maybe I do, maybe there is some benefit from growing older, but they do not outweigh the parts that are not fun. At least not as far as I can see in my 89-year-old mother, or in myself since taking on the responsibility of caring for her. Tomorrow I have an appointment to get her hair cut and colored, and while I am there, I will be making an appointment for myself. Maybe we will both feel younger.