Have a good day!
One of the experiences of getting old can be realizing how other people see you. Through my sixties and seventies people would say they were surprised when I told them my age. They thought I was younger. Yesterday I experienced how I am seen as a fragile and vulnerable 82–year-old. Unlike the time a locker room neighbor intruded into my personal space because he thought I couldn’t pull my pants up, a young woman lifeguard offered to help me and then did a few times. As much as I appreciated her help, even more I felt a surge of warmth and comfort as I was leaving when she expressed her concern and care, calling from the other side of the pool “Have a good day!”
Last Saturday, Anne Mei gave me a ride to the pool ahead of the blizzard. She wasn’t home yesterday, so I drove myself, parked in an illegal spot closer to the door to avoid the usual long walk. As I’ve mentioned before, I move in baby steps and shuffle along leaning on my cane to avoid irritating my back. It’s a very slow process. I know from watching my friend with cerebral palsy struggle to a seat in the senior dining room how disturbing it can be to watch the way I’m moving now.
To avoid the excruciating pain and spasms when getting dressed in the locker room, I wore my bathing suit under sweatpants and just wore the sweatpants home.
Unfortunately, the noodle I use for my biking exercise in the pool had been left in Anne Mei’s car. There are noodles at the pool but they’re too light and short. That’s why I bought my own. I used two of the club’s yesterday but they’re difficult to keep in place because of their length. Even more difficult to get in place around my back and under my arms.
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This time as I was struggling in the water to place a noodle that kept popping out, the lifeguard came over to the edge and said let me help. She then held the recalcitrant noodle so I could get my arm around it. I’ve asked other male lifeguards for similar help, but she came on her own. She must have been watching me shuffle over to the noodle bin and back, put my cane and towel on the lift chair, leave my sandals by the rail, and go down the steps into the water sideways holding on to the railing with both hands. That got her attention.
Her assistance got my attention. She was a regular lifeguard at the pool last winter but has not been on duty very much this winter. It seemed to me that her facial features had matured nicely since I last saw her. She no longer looks like an adolescent.
Last year I was impressed by the way she would walk around the pool repeatedly. When I said to her that I thought she did that to stay awake in a boring job, she agreed. Before yesterday those were about the only words we’ve exchanged in two years.
About three-quarters through my usual workout my back started to twinge so I stopped. As I was putting the noodles in a place on the deck where I could pick them up later to put them back in their bin, she came over and said that she would put them back. I thanked her again for her help. She took them and went back on her rounds.
I struggled to get up the steps out of the pool, having to pull myself up by the rail. A combination of fatigue and weakness. After that it went smoothly but slowly, sandals on my feet, towel over my shoulders, cane in my hand. As I was about to enter the revolving door out of the pool area, I heard a distant voice say something. It took me a moment to realize that the lifeguard had spoken from the far end of the pool. “Have a good day.” To me?! I replied “You, too.” As I inched back to the locker room, I felt that it was a good day thanks to her.
