Getting Old is not for Sissies...(Bette Davis)

Three events this month remind me of my aging. The first occurred when my auto dashboard said “check engine.” The light came on and stayed on. I recently had the oil changed and thought maybe a reset button needed to be pressed. I don’t know if the dashboard has a “reset” button but when my TV gives me trouble I press a reset button and the problem goes away.

So I drove to Meineke and told the nice young man at the counter about all of the above. He took his “engine tester” (my words not his) to my car and plugged it into something under the dash. When he turned the motor on he looked at the gizmo (again my word, not his) and said, “Your gas cap is loose.”

“I know I tightened it when I got gas,” I insisted.

He opened the little gas door and saw that the cap was in place.

“See,” I said.

He opened the cap, reinserted, and turned it. Click, click, click.

“Oh, I didn’t hear that when I tightened the cap.”

“You have to get it tight enough to hear those clicks. It says so right on the cap,” that snippy know-it-all said.

The second incident involved my car again. The days turned very warm and I realized the AC didn’t work. I put it on as high as it would go and it only blew warm air. I picked up a friend for church and apologized for the warm car.

“My air conditioner isn’t working, maybe it needs Freon,” I said

She fiddled with the fan, turning it up high and again only warm air came out.

“You know your AC button isn’t lit.” She pressed the button and cold air emerged from the vents. Another know-it-all.

 The third incident involved a phone call to the hospital to inquire about my friend Virginia.

“May I speak to the nurse in charge of Virginia Wells, please?”

After a few seconds the operator said, “I don’t have a Virginia Wells listed.”

“Wells, W-E-L-L-S,” I said.

“There’s no Virginia Wells on my roster.”

“Was she discharged?”

“Just a minute, I’ll check,” the operator said.

After a couple of minutes she returned and said “We never had a Virginia Wells.”

I felt like I had arrived into the “Twilight Zone”. Exasperated, I insisted, “Yes you have. I visited her a few days ago in room 121.”

“We don’t have a room 121. This is French Hospital. Maybe you want Sierra Vista.” Another know-it-all.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” I demurred. “I called the wrong hospital.”

“That’s ok; I’ll put you through to Sierra Vista.”

“Thank you,” I whispered with embarrassment.