October 5, 2021
Dear Readers, I realize I haven’t written in a while; I’ll blame in on a change-up in my routine, as my five college gals stayed with me for 10 days while Keith went to visit our son and daughter-in-law in Boston, who save up many of their minor repair jobs for him. Keith, of course, loves these small challenges. Being able to help out makes him feel useful, along with the bonus of visiting with our Boston family—which now includes our only granddaughter, who started her first year of college at Dartmouth this fall.
I, too, had the gift of spending time with ‘the girls’—who hovered over me like mother hens. The week passed quickly: taking walks, making meals, playing board games, and catching up on everyone’s lives. On the last night of their stay, I insisted I wanted to take them out to dinner—my treat. After some resistance, the ‘girls’ begrudgingly agreed. It began as a pleasant evening out but went downhill quickly. The food was very good, however the service was very slow…I mean really slow. From experience, I knew most often the cause of such delays are not due to the waiter, who has to face upset customers, but rather, the delays are in the kitchen. So when the check arrived, I added on a large tip to the bill. When the waiter returned he handed back my credit card, saying, “Your card was denied.” I was stunned; Keith never lets our cards expire or overrun our limit.
With a sense of panic as well embarrassment, I dug through my purse, thinking I might perchance have a blank check…only to find that Keith had put more than sufficient money in my bag. What a relief! As I paid the bill, I felt a rush of gratitude for my most wonderful, thoughtful husband.
Two days later when Keith returned home, I told him of the incident. He was stunned and asked to see what card I used. I was peeved by the request—his checking up on me. “For goodness sake, I still know what a credit card looks like!” I retaliated. I retrieved the card from my purse and not so gently thrust it at him…only to hear him say, “This is not a credit card, it is our insurance card!”
Oh, the embarrassment! And the painful reminder of my fading cognition and memory. It’s a fact I try my best to downplay, even as I realize it has to be a burden on Keith, the children, and my friends. This lapse has continued to concern and pain me, even now almost two weeks later. It is an undeniable reality of how frail I’ve become. Me! Who has always prided myself on my sharp instincts, excellent logic, and capability.
Fortunately, I don’t dwell on these mishaps. I avoid going to events these days, as these former gatherings have now become an onus to me, as I would struggle and fail to be engaging. I hope this post doesn’t sound depressing or a downer—as it doesn’t feel that way to me. It is my reality and a reality I’m grateful for. I’m grateful for the relief of the stress of being in public and struggling to engage, and instead being with my family and close friends who accept the ‘me’ I’ve become, without judgement—who love me in spite of my flaws.