Silver Alert

There they were, at least seven people in wheelchairs who appeared to be in their 60s-80s, queued up and waiting for the boarding call at LaGuardia airport for the flight to Fort Lauderdale. My husband and I were waiting for this flight too; we travel to Florida two-three times yearly to visit family. As I smiled at this line-up, I suddenly realized that the people in this line could represent a harbinger of my future.

Recently retired from my full-time job as a research scientist- as my readers will remember by now- I eagerly make lists of things I plan to do with more free time. But I wondered if many of these people in wheelchairs had plans for when they retired; it was likely their plans didn’t involve needing a wheelchair.

That will never be me, I said to myself. I have been fortunate in always having good health and activities that engage me, and I somehow expect that this will continue indefinitely. But can I be sure?

After we picked up our rental car and were driving on the interstate highway to our condo in Pompano Beach, I noticed the large sign hanging across the highway that declared a “Silver Alert” – listing the model of a car and its license plate number. I was familiar with the “Amber Alert” signs in New York, asking drivers to be on the watch for a car that may have a kidnapped child, but I had never seen a “Silver Alert.” I imagined that it was for the elderly and sure enough, after googling it on my iphone, I learned that it was to alert drivers to a missing senior who may be driving and had some form of dementia. It worked, I began searching for the license plate number.

That will never be me, I said to myself again. I had recently stopped driving, having little use for it in New York City, and rely on my husband to drive when we go to Florida. But the sign did get my attention and reminded me that there may be a time when he may need to give up driving too. I have already noticed that he doesn’t see as well at night as he used to. On another recent trip in Florida as we drove home after a late dinner, he needed to make a turn in an unfamiliar road and we found ourselves up on the curb in the grass. Although poor lighting may have contributed to this, we both knew that his night vision was likely on the decline.

What’s to be done about these “Silver alerts,” these reminders that changes may be in store as I age? As you know, I follow recommendations for health maintenance, including regular exercise, and hope to continue to be mobile without wheelchair assistance. For night traveling in Florida, or on trips elsewhere, we can use Uber-type services. We can also go out for dinner earlier- those Florida Early Bird specials can be tasty and quite economical. So I conclude that while I have seen some harbingers of the future- they do not have activation dates and may never happen to me. And perhaps I will make fewer trips to Florida, where the harbingers of aging are rife.