I love my job, it’s an absolute privilege to be allowed a window into people’s lives whilst I’m treating them.

This beautiful lady recently attended as a new patient. She is now in her 80’s and could easily be dismissed as elderly and insignificant, but older people have often led such rich and fascinating lives. What is “old” now anyway?

This elegant lady in her younger years led a successful career as a showgirl, such glamour and elegance doesn’t seem so commonplace anymore.

Next time you have an opportunity to spend time with someone older and wiser, be curious, appreciate their wisdom, their rich experience and don’t forget one day we will be old too!!

I’m Fine Thank You (Constance O’Neon 1953)

There is nothing the matter with me
I’m as healthy as can be.
I have arthritis in both my knees
And when I talk, I talk with a wheeze,
My pulse is weak and my blood is thin,
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

Arch supports I have for my feet,
Or I wouldn’t be able to go on the street.
Sleep is denied me night after night,
But every morning I find I’m all right,
My memory is failing, my head’s in a spin
But I’m awfully well for the shape I’m in.

The moral is this – as my tale I unfold,
That for you and me who are growing old,
It’s better to say, “I’m fine” with a grin,
Than to let folks know the shape we’re in.

How do I know that my youth is all spent?
Well my ‘get up and go’ has got up and went.
But I don’t really mind when I think with a grin,
Of all the grand places ‘my get up’ has been.

Old age is golden, I’ve heard it said,
But sometimes I wonder as I get into bed,
With my ears in the drawer, my teeth in the cup,
My eyes on the table until I wake up.
Ere sleep overtakes me, I think to myself
Is there anything else I could lay on the shelf?

When I was young, my slippers were red;
I could kick my heels right over my head.
When I got older, my slippers were blue;
But still I could dance the whole night through.
But now I am old, my slippers are black;
I walk to the store and puff my way back.

I get up each day and dust off my wits,
And pick up the paper and read the ‘obits’.
If my name is still missing, I know I’m not dead –
So I have a good breakfast and go back to bed.




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