In my seventies, I am now learning to walk. “Put the right foot forward,” the physiotherapist says, urging me on as if I were a toddler, “then gently pull the other leg up”.
Having inherited some left-handed traits from my father (he bowled with his left hand but batted with his right, sliced mangoes with his left but wrote with his right) I tend to step forward with my left leg — and now it promptly buckles under me. “No, no,” the therapist says, steadying me as I grimace with pain. “I said, the right leg forward.”
Habits die hard, especially in something as basic as walking, and I have to keep reminding myself: right first, then slowly pull up the troublesome left, without bending it at the knee….
And suddenly, memories from way back surface — of teaching my ten-month-old toddler son to walk, cajoling him forward, holding my hands out and encouraging him to ‘come to mamma’. Getting carried away by his newfound ability to stand, he would lurch excitedly towards me, staggering unsteadily like a drunk, and flop into my outstretched arms with a broad smile. Atta boy! It is now mamma’s turn.
“C’mon ma”, that boy (now middle-aged) says. “You can do it.” Just remember not to put your weight on your left leg. Standing beside the physiotherapist, he urges me on, hands held out protectively to boost my confidence. Atta girl, I can almost hear him say silently.
Is this why old age is called a second childhood? Roles reversed from the past, the ‘mother of the man’ now the child. Dependent. Needing care and support.
Insecurities, some small and some not-so-small, that a parent found annoying in a toddler, now surface from God-knows-where — no, don’t cut my toenails, you will snip my skin, that kind of thing. I used to laugh when my two-year-old daughter said that. Now it is my turn to say the same thing when she comes with the nail clippers….
Why is it okay for a busy parent to be impatient with the inadequacies of a child, but offensive and humiliating when a busy son or daughter shows impatience with a dependent parent? Because the now-infirm parent did not foresee a time when the roles of dependent and guardian would be reversed, and the offspring cannot remind themselves that it will be their turn too, when age catches up with them — as it inevitably will — and their own ‘second childhood’ will put them at the mercy of the next generation. We can devise robots that can think and smell, but we still can’t travel back and forth in time, to promote compassion and patience.
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