Special Senior Allowances

A few days back, my husband was sitting next to me at the breakfast table when I noticed that he had a sticker affixed to his eyeglasses. I wondered what that was about. Turns out it was the magnification number. I asked if he kept it on the glasses as a sort of announcement, and did he think he would get some type of special treatment because he wears 3.0 magnifiers.

Of course he didn’t, but that gave me an idea. We should get price reductions on things because of our diminishing eyesight. Call it a “Visual Acuity Discount” for seniors. This led me to develop a list of various allowances to which seniors should be entitled.

I was 66 and change before I learned that a local market gives 5% senior discounts on Tuesdays. “Not too bad,” thought I. “I’ve only missed out on about a year of savings.” Turns out I missed out on 11 years because of my ignorance. They begin this privilege when you turn 55. I want our allowances to go beyond that standard day-of-the-week percent off. I want special treatment for senior circumstances every day.

We’ll start with that “Visual Acuity Discount.” Anyone who wears glasses with a magnification level of 3.0 or higher will get eBooks for free from Kindle. They’ll also get to make younger people give up their seats in the primo rows at the movie theater when they arrive so late that only the first three rows or the last six have seats together. That’s not a discount, but it’s even better than one.

There’s also the “Gray Hair Respect Grant”. You’re entitled to some respect when your hair is anywhere from totally gray to having 3/4” of gray roots showing. (That would be me most of the time.) Under this grant, you go straight to the front of the line at the bank, the post office, the DMV, or at any other facility run by the government or by a quasi-governmental entity. There isn’t any special consideration for bald men. Too many young bucks shave their heads today.

The “Meandering Balance” decreases in proportion to a senior’s feebleness. The amount you pay is calculated by dividing the forward progress by the horizontal movement getting there. If you teeter-totter sideways across a two-feet wide space in order to move 8 inches forward, your ratio is 8 divided by 24, or one third. A ten-dollar item will cost you just $3.33. The more decrepit you become, the wider you’ll teeter, reducing your Meandering Balance and lowering your prices.

Older folks seem to acquire more bruises, especially post-retirement, when they spend more time in that most-dangerous of all places: home. Fortunately, there’s an upside to this. Flash just one black-and-blue mark and you’ll get the “Bruise Allowance” at any health club, fitness center or sports facility.

One of the easiest senior considerations to snag is the “Medication Provision.” Provide proof that you’re on just one prescription for a chronic condition and you automatically go to the head of the line at emergency rooms, movie theaters and the dressing rooms at all national discount clothing chains. Lipitor, Plavix, Lisinopril, Fosamax—all qualify you. Sorry, but Viagra and Cialis are regarded as treatments for acute shortcomings; if that’s all you’ve got, you’ll just have to wait your turn.

The “Vertigo Variance” is provided to seniors who get dizzy if they stand up from a prone position without a midway rest stop. It allows them to show up as much as an hour late for meetings, doctors’ appointments, lunch dates—anything that has a fixed time when they’re supposed to be there. Documented stages of vertigo are coded to match Affordable Care Health Insurance. That is: bronze (15 minutes late), silver (1/2 hour), gold (45 minutes) and platinum (one hour late).

The “Age Spot Accommodation” is determined by the number and density of the liver spot patterns on visible skin areas (generally, your hands and face). Add up the total number of clearly visible spots you have. Multiply that by the number of distinct areas of spot patterns. The result is your accommodation score. For every one hundred points, you get 10% off your purchase in any participating retailer. Do the math: If your points exceed 1,000, you get stuff for free. I am so there.

These special allowances for seniors will significantly improve our lives. You have to wonder why no one thought of them before. This post pretty much wrote itself. All it took was some careful observation of the seniors around me (and in my mirror). Well, that and a few glasses of wine.

Retirement Plagues — Sneezing Fits, Bug Bites and Bruises

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Lately I’m prone to a rash of plagues, or a plague of rashes, or both. They’ve come upon me like carpenter ants on a vine-covered porch since I’ve been retired.

Every year around this time, I get little bug bites that itch like crazy. They start at my ankles and work their way up my body over a few weeks. Places on my lower back that are hard to reach are a favorite snacking area for these critters. Also the wing flaps of my upper arms. For immediate relief, I scrub my skin to within an inch of its life with the back brush in the shower.

I also treat with my father’s go-to ointment—Boroleum. It’s an analgesic with menthol and eucalyptol. It was developed for nasal use, but it’s versatile. Remember the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who used Windex on everything, including zits? Well, that’s me with my Boroleum, thanks to my father. It’s amazingly soothing, but only for awhile. No matter what I do, until the nibbling season is over, I’m doomed to a life of itch and scratch.

This is also the season for sneezing fits. Those with severe allergies are thinking: “Big whoop. The whole year is that season for me.” I understand the need to sneeze when I’m exposed to pollen. But my office is in the basement. In a windowless area. The fits I get there at this time of year go on and on.

The first sneeze, I just ignore. The second sneeze gets me looking around for the tissue box, just in case. By the third sneeze, I’m trying to sniff the drips back up there. Sneeze four gets me pressing my knees together. Sneeze five has me blowing my nose (still pressing my knees together). And blowing. And blowing. By the time sneeze six comes around, and it usually does, I’m running up the stairs to the bathroom.

Maybe my office gets dustier in Spring. It doesn’t seem that way to me. True, I drag the porch furniture out of the basement around the same time, and that stirs things up. But they’re in a different room and they go out the bulkhead. Even Luke is sneezing more now, and he hasn’t been o-u-t in weeks. Whatever the reason, sneeze fests are just another plague of the season for us.

My recent checkup with my GP reminded me of yet another side effect of an aging body: I bruise much more easily now. I guess my skin is thinner, so the blood vessels are closer to the surface. You know those little suction cup electrodes the tech sticks onto you when she does your annual EKG? Now they leave red marks. They usually disappear within a few hours, but it’s a different story for the other bruises that I get without having a clue why.

The other day I found a small discoloration on my left forearm. I’m sure it started as a typical black and blue mark. By the time I noticed it, the color had already moved on to the green phase. Now it’s that ugly yellow that signals the end of the cycle. I find bruises on my hips and thighs all the time, and I rarely can remember bumping into anything. Or more correctly, into anything in particular.

I bump into things all the time. My depth perception has always been lousy. Now that my eyesight is also less than stellar, unintentional contact with my surroundings happens several times a day, leaving me muttering: “Ouch! That’s going to leave a mark.” The more I walk around the house, the more bruises I get, and at least half of the ones I notice have origins unknown.

This provides a suitable excuse for just staying put in a chair with a good book. And a nice glass of wine. And no, it’s not the wine that makes me clumsy, so you can wipe that smirk off your face. What’s even better—by the second glass, I don’t notice the bug bites anymore. Ah, Spring! When ones thoughts turn to restocking the “medicine cabinet” with Boroleum and tissues. And wine, of course.