Stare Into Your Coffee and Other Tips To Stay Alive When You Live Alone
It is morning. Time for coffee and computer. Before taking a first sip, I turn my attention from the screen and stare into my coffee cup. I am not a spiritualist who trades coffee for tea leaves, just an older woman living alone trying to forestall yet another "wrong pipe" coughing explosion.
My only companion is my dog Doris. I can't count on my Terrier/Jack Russell mix to pound me on my back to halt the hacking. She is disturbed by her adopter's frightening eruption, but can bring no aid, just worried looks from her beautiful brown eyes.
I calm down and immediately think: throat cancer. Does everyone go to the dire, or just those of us over the age of 80? Gratefully, a Google search reveals I am way off base. "Going down the wrong pipe" is not only common, but also not dangerous. The body's reaction is caused by not paying attention. The prescription: turn your eyes from the computer and before you sip, look at the pool of coffee and with intent, sip. And perform this action every time you need a dose.
Another tip for staying alive, or at least in one piece in our senior years, is to stare at the sidewalk every time you're out for a stroll. An incident executed by yours truly is evidence.
I was crossing the street, with Doris in tow, to reach my bank. Christmas was approaching and I needed ten-dollar bills to disperse to my building's staff.
My eyes were on the bank, trying to discern if it was indeed open at this hour. In the middle of the street, with cars thankfully paused at their red light, a piece of concrete jagged up. I went down.
A dear driver leaped out of his car to ascertain my condition then hand-signaled to others alongside of him to halt.
Fortunately, I was clothed in a heavy parka, Doris remained nearby, I did not hit my head, and the only memento was a red mark on my hand. Another plus in my favor is that I am only 4'9", so I don't have far to fall.
Another plunge, also related to paying attention, occurred in the lobby of my highrise. The elevator door opened and Doris -- did I mention she took a while to get adopted because of her nervousness -- sped for the space and pulled me down.
This time was scarier because I landed on the back of my head. A crowd gathered. "Are you okay?" asked all of the young people who are neighbors. Their sweet unlined faces worried that they had witnessed the demise of the oldest resident.
But I did not black out. The back of my head hurt, but I was able to rise with the assistance of one of those millennials. There were offers of rides to the emergency room and accompaniment to my apartment. I declined all.
Once indoors, back at the computer, I Googled "concussions." I put my hands in a prayer position, looked up to the ceiling, and gave thanks to my deity for incurring not one of the symptoms.
Just to be sure, I phoned one of those millennials who is a dear friend and lives in my building. "Call me in 15 minutes," I said. "If I don't answer, get inside and take me to the ER."
When she heard the reason for this directive, she pushed for an immediate visit, but was mollified with the offered time.
One last hazard, of the many that present, is the stepstool I use to reach the microwave oven. If I do not pay attention, I miss my marker and am too close. This results in a slap in the face by the glass door.
If I place my little helper too far back, I must attempt a dangerous reach with the kitchen towel that will grab the hot plate. This requires the finesse of a carnival acrobat. When I descend and land on my feet, I pause a beat for applause.
As I write this, I realize that all of my examples and instructions boil down to one command: pay attention. The edict doesn't just apply to people my age. I have a notion those decades younger are gagging on beverage, falling on uneven sidewalks, and being dragged by their dogs.
Of course the difference is that these kids will likely rise, brush themselves off, and go about their business. We of advanced age will hesitate telling our adult children of the latest mishap lest they start scouring senior housing.