It's Hell Getting Old, but Go Ahead and Laugh

Mama who is 5'1" and her youngest grandson, Jackson, 6'4"

Well, it's here.  I turn 60 tomorrow.  But this post is not about my growing old.  What's on my mind is my mother.  She stayed with us for about 9 days,so that she could see doctors in Memphis for various conditions you might imagine an 87 year old might have.  I took her back to her house yesterday, and on the drive back to Memphis, I thought of the week we had had.  What stood out to me during all of her doctor visits and needle pricks is that she has a great sense of humor, and that has helped her through awkward medical moments, rude and cold nurses, and doctors' comments which would not win them any bedside manner awards.  I continue to be amazed at how harsh a diagnosis can sound just by the way it is worded.  And then there are the health care professionals that you would like to take out to dinner because you enjoyed your brief encounter with them so much.  And that's what is so concerning to me.  You wait and wait and wait ---in our case 3 1/2 hours for one appointment and 2 hours for another.   And you actually see the doctor a little over 10 minutes if you are lucky.  And most of us would prefer the doc to be kind and attentive for those 10 minutes.  ( and some are )  But I noticed when the bedside manner went south, Mama would go into lockdown.   I can't help but wonder how often that happens with other patients.   I can still tolerate a doc who is not the sweetest person on the block, but when you are old and tired, and you feel old and tired, I think the bedside manner is HUGE.   So, on the way back to my house, we would try to find something funny about the appointment, or how neither one of us could remember where the car was parked in the cavernous parking garage, and we would laugh.  Or we would pretend to reverse roles and show that doctor how to speak to a patient the right way.  I just wonder if health care professionals realize how much their attitude affects the attitude of their patients.  Some just don't "play well with others".  And it is disappointing, not to mention a heap of trouble to take a chance on another doctor who may or may not have the same personality drawbacks.  It just makes me think about how much more pleasant it would be to have an uplifting, positive doctor, nurse prac, or staff member accompanying you as you make your way out of this life.  Because the doctor's office is about the only place you go when you are elderly and you feel bad.    

So I'm hoping that if I make it in this life another 27 years, I will be able to laugh at myself and at the people who are foolish enough not to show empathy to an octogenarian who feels like crap.  

 "A cheerful heart makes good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22 

Do I hear an "Amen"?

Everybody Cut Footloose

   My whole family loves to dance: my sisters, my mom and dad, my kids and their kids.  I think it is so very cool to be able to express yourself that way.   My first memory of dancing was at the age of 5 out on the Blytheville, Arkansas football field at halftime with head majorette, Gail Brogdon, and loving every minute of it.  I took tap and ballet for more than 10 years at the infamous Rockie Smith Dance Studio and wanted to be Shirley Temple for most of my elementary school years. I danced a lot at home and put on my tap shoes almost every day just to hear them click on the floor.  My mother was always fussing about the scuff marks, but she continued to let me do it.
 When I got to junior high and high school, I really wanted to go to the dances, but back in my day, you had to have a date in order to participate, and that just wasn't happening for me.  I probably had less than a dozen dates in my entire high school career which was a huge disappointment socially, not to mention stifling my dance moves.  I love that kids go out in groups now.  You shouldn't have to have a guy ask you out in order to have some fun!  When I got to college, anybody who wanted a date could usually get one, but you had to take your chances.   And you could have the worst time of your life on a blind date---I know that first hand---but that's for another post. 
   We always had live bands at Ole Miss in the late 60s and early 70s, and part of the great football weekend tradition was to hop from fraternity house to fraternity house after the games.  Most of us loved the weekend live bands at Ole Miss better than almost anything.  You could walk up and down fraternity row and get into any party free.  The frat guys had a social chairman who would book some of the coolest local and regional  bands in the area.  I remember when one fraternity booked the "Hot Nuts", and they got into a lot of trouble, because the band's lyrics were considered lewd and distasteful according to the University.  Those lyrics were so extremely mild compared to the music lyrics of today.   Funny how some things evolve into worse.  
My husband, Clark, was and is a very good dancer.  He was at ease on the dance floor, and really enjoyed kicking up his heels.  During college, he would grab a girl, even if she had another date, and off to the dance floor they would go.   And one night, Clark evolved into "Chicken Man" because he could dance with that head moving like a chicken long  before the "Funky Chicken" came into being.   And the name, "Chicken",  stuck.  Lots of people including me still call him "Chicken", although I try to avoid it in business and family situations.  Until recently, if we were at a party and there was dancing, you can believe that Clark was one of the first and last on the dance floor, and any lady who wanted to dance (and some who weren't sure) would end up in front of the band with Clark.  It has been so much fun to be married to a guy who likes to dance. 
Anyway, we don't really dance as much as we used to.  We just like watching the younger folks at weddings and get togethers.  But on our last night in Alabama with all of the boxes packed, Clark cranked up the music on the patio speakers and we danced to Etta and a few others.  But you know what?  Beale Street is a few miles to the west of our house here in Memphis.   And we can get into B.B.King's without a fake ID anytime.  And it might be fun to go.  But I think I'll be watching.  I have seen people my age on the dance floor trying out the new moves, and it just isn't pretty.  Yep, I'll be having just as much fun tapping my foot.........well....... maybe.

Prove It.

 That's what we read online in preparation for obtaining a Tennessee driver's license: bring two documents that prove your new address and one proof of U.S. citizenship.  And that's what we took.  ha

We knew going in that the Tennessee Department of Safety is not the most efficient department in Tennessee.  We also knew we were going head to head with them, because there is no other way to get a new driver's license.  We were hoping to get it done with the least hassle possible.  yeah, right
  Clark took off work early, so we could get a head start on the Friday afternoon sixteen year olds.  We researched  online where to go and what to bring, so there would be no problems.  whatever
Mistake # 1. going to the nearest Tennessee Department of Safety Office suggested online--it is no longer open---- 20 minutes wasted
Mistake # 2. going to the NEXT nearest office and getting turned away because the line was already forming outside.  A young lady in line overheard us saying that we were new to Memphis, and she told us that we were about to REALLY miss being wherever we came from.  A little foreshadowing there, aaaaaand--- another 20 minutes wasted.
So we drive about 20 more minutes to another TDS office and arrive about 3:00.  We are already an hour behind before we begin!  We queue up and wait another 20 minutes just to get inside, but at least we do not get turned away here.  When we get to talk to a real person, she looks at our documents and tells us that I have the correct papers, but Clark does not.  We had brought our lease agreement with our signatures and new address, the change of address verification from the U.S.Post Office, and my personal credit card bill with our new address.  We also brought along our passports.  We thought that would do the trick and when the lady behind the desk who I will refer to from now on as the License Nazi, told Clark he did not have the correct documents, we were baffled.  You see, the U.S. Post Office document had only "Burnett" as the addressee and not our first names, so it didn't count as proof.  The credit card bill was in my name, so no luck there for Clark.
License Nazi:"Uh, do you have your marriage license?"
Clark:"No, I don't happen to have it on me."
License Nazi: "Well, if you had it, then you could prove that you were married to Mrs. Burnett, so that her credit card bill would be your other proof of residence."  Makes perfect sense, right?  Because Clark could have found that U.S. Post Office card that was mailed to us with the name Burnett on it  ANYWHERE, or he could have stolen it out of a mailbox or some such thing.  I mean COME ON!  But we can tell the License Nazi is not going to give in, so Clark asked how long they would be open so that he could make the 30 minute drive back home to get a copy of our marriage license and get back before closing. 
Mistake # 3:  I left my cell phone in the car because we were not allowed to bring them in, so once Clark left, I could not update him on how long it was taking  to get your number called. 
Mistake # 4:  Leaving my glasses at home. Since the cell phone was in the car with Clark making the trek to fetch the marriage license, there was no way to tell him to bring them back with him, in order for me to SEE TO PASS THE VISION TEST!
My number is finally called, and I go up to another section of the counter and this lady is very nice.  She makes copies of my documents and asks me to put my chin in the vision machine and I stall a little and then decide I'll just go with my prescription sun glasses, because, for heaven's sake, I don't want to stop this process, and there are lots of people still behind me licking their chops to have their turn.  I put on my shades, stick my chin on the rest, and begin to read the letters.  I miss one... or two.  The lady asks me to read another line.  I miss one... or two.  She tells me I have one more chance to read the line correctly, and by the grace of God, I nail it.  So now all I have to do is wait for my photo in yet another line, and of course, wait for Clark.......who is taking a very long time to get back.  
I keep looking at the door, and I'm watching people inching forward for their turn with the License Nazi, and I keep looking at the clock, because the Nazi told Clark the cut-off time was 4:30 and it is getting close to 4:00.  Finally, finally, Clark comes in looking a little distraught, so I join him at the counter thinking maybe he couldn't find our marriage license, but all was well.......or so I thought.  Here's how it went down: ( it's like something out of SNL ) 
Clark: "Here's my paperwork you said was necessary."
LN: "You are here too late.  We have closed for the day."
Clark:  "What? You're kidding, right?  You said you would be open till 4:30!  You said 4:30!"
LN: "Do I look like a fortune teller to you? I am not a fortune teller."  And she is not making eye contact---very bad sign.  "Too many people showed up and we are not taking any more today.  You can come back on Monday." ( I am about to jump in here, but Clark gives me the don't do it look.) 
Clark: "Look, you told me 4:30 and I am here a little after 4:00.  You knew I was going home to get the marriage license.  Couldn't you just let me in?"
LN: repeats the fortune teller line and then she says, "The lady in charge told me not to let anybody else in here and that's what I'm going to do."  
Clark: "Could I please speak to that lady, or could you tell her my circumstances?"  
LN: 'You don't want to talk to ME?" repeats question.... at which time I wanted to jump the counter.  But of course, that was just in my mind.  She could have taken me and besides, there was a policeman listening in and agreeing with the LN.  are you kidding?
So the LN went to the back, "checked" with whoever was in the driver's seat, and came back with a go ahead.  THANK GOODNESS for power over power mongers.  
By this time I had finished the entire process, and Clark had not begun. He and I watched practically every person finish and leave, but when his turn finally arrived, it went without a hitch.  So, we got what we came for......
Mistake #5: Thinking that we could get a driver's license in Memphis and walk away having had a good experience, because we were prepared.  We just weren't prepared for the License Nazi.