Whilst talking to my daughter last night, a revelation came to me: I am a Little Old Man carrying for a Little Old Lady.
The Little Old Lady is an 86-year-old widow. I am almost 70.
It has been a rough week for both of us. She has had a health set-back that required a drive to Insta-Care, and then the emergency room. After she was released, getting home care for her has been a nightmare. Wires got crossed, and I had to start from scratch, so it will be a full week before a nurse will finally come to her door.
At times, my patience has worn thin, and my body has worn down.
With a little luck, someone will be there for me when I can not care for myself. If I don’t show patience and strength now, how can I expect the same when I fall apart.
Neither my Little Old Lady nor myself want to ever see the inside of a nursing home. We would despise living in assisted living. We both prefer to go out of this life with one deft stroke (pun intended).
Bing Crosby set the example, having a fatal heart attack while on a golf course. Great idea!
But I have my doubts.
“With A Little Luck”
by Paul McCartney
With a little luck, we can help it out.
We can make this whole damn thing work out.
With a little love, we can lay it down.
Can’t you feel the town exploding?
There is no end to what we can do together.
There is no end, there is no end.
The wiliow turns his back on inclement weather;
And if he can do it, we can do it, just me and you