07/25/2025
Technology, Language, and the Layers of Age
Nearly 20 years ago, my mother entered hospice care. She was graceful, poised, and timeless—yet I remember the overnight nurse casually referring to her as “elderly.” The word struck me like a misplaced label. My mother? A ballerina. Always radiant. Always youthful in spirit.
Today, on my 68th birthday, I finally understand what I couldn’t back then.
I don’t feel old. But I’m starting to see how the world subtly tells me otherwise.
A medical assistant recently swabbed my throat for strep—then confidently added, “It’s probably negative. Only young people get that.” (Spoiler: It was positive.)
My ophthalmologist applauded my 20/20 vision, then explained the “pseudo-something” floating in my eye. “It’s like dandruff,” he said. “Part of aging.”
Another doctor offered a preventative medication for concerns about potential infection “because it comes with age.”
My smart scale thinks I’m five years older than I am. But not to worry—some fitness app has me at 48.9. Somewhere between technology’s logic and my mirror’s honesty lies the truth.
Yes, my arms have crepey skin. My legs have their roadmap of veins. And sometimes, names slip through the cracks in my memory.
But I still laugh hard. Think deeply. Create with purpose.
And as my husband likes to joke, “Birthdays are good for your health—the more you have, the longer you live.”
So today, call me older. Call me seasoned. Call me experienced, wise, vintage, or even classic.
But please—don’t call me elderly.