Mom appreciated all of the physicians who did so much to keep her humming, but Dr. John Beight, her orthopedic surgeon, had a special place in her heart. He was kind, open with his patients & incredibly good looking.
Mom suffered from a torn rotator cuff, which seriously messed up her left shoulder. There were daily tasks she could not tackle, from putting on her stockings & tying her shoes to getting out of bed once she was down. If she needed to get out of bed for any reason, an assist was needed. The injury meant a lot of visits with her ortho - Dr. Beight.
She appreciated him, on every level. I remember taking her to Holy Redeemer Hospital for some post-op testing & being surprised when on of the recovery nurses came out to the waiting room, laughing. "Your mother is such a card!" she said. "There she was, stretched out, resting up from the testing, while the rest of us chatted. We didn't realize she could hear us swooning over how Dr. Beight is so handsome. Suddenly, we hear her say, with her eyes still closed, 'He is to make the angels sing.' Well, we were so surprised - first, that she heard us but even more by what we said. 'Mrs. Lockhart,' I responded, without thinking, 'You're old!' None of us will ever forget her retort - 'I may be old, but I'm not dead.'"
Yep, that was Mom. She appreciated every aspect of Dr. Beight & he did the same, right back. But I can let Mom speak for herself, since she wrote about him back on 06/28/00:
One of my bestest buddies is
Dr. John Beight, my orthopedic surgeon.
I think I have mentioned before that he is dashing fellow in looks and
manner. He has been wonderful to
me. I had an appointment with him this
afternoon to check out my poor old shoulder.
He asked how I was. I gave him my standard answer - "I take
two pain pills a day. My spirits are
good. I have a good appetite. I live with a loving daughter and a loving
son-in-law. Who could ask for more? It can't get much better than
this."
He gave a slow little smile
and said, "You're young." Surprised,
I replied, laughing, “Oh no! I am
old!” He looked at me, very seriously,
and repeated, “No, Mrs. Lockhart, you’re young.”
Later, as I was getting
ready to head out to the waiting room where John was biding his time, Dr.
Beight looked at me very seriously and said, "Your son-in-law is a
wonderful man. I saw the way he helped
you." I whole-heartedly
agreed! Then he shook my hand - he has
beautiful hands. I thanked him very much
and he graciously replied, "My pleasure" and sounded like he meant
it.
I am so lucky to have
association with such a good doctor and gracious man. What I appreciate most about Dr. Beight is
that he is unusually modest. He seems totally unconscious of the fact that
he is a very handsome man. He is
natural.
When I headed out to meet
John, I felt much, much better than when I came in, in part from the cortisone
shot in my shoulder but in larger part to the effect of Dr. Beight.
When Dr. Beight said Mom was young, I believe what he truly meant was that she was ageless, something to which we can all aspire. Ashton Applewhite talks about the value in being an Old Person in Training. Mom stood out because she was just a person. Not old, not young, simply real.
The Internet became popular when Mom was in her 80s, but it wouldn't have touched her life if she hadn't already & always been interested in other people. She got into using it - she'd dictate, I'd transcribe - because of getting involved in a lively discussion over the issue of female ministers in our male-only church priesthood. Typical Mom - she belonged to both the pro ~AND~ the con discussion circles, explaining that she agreed & disagreed with different aspects of both arguments.
Mom would never have developed her own Mindwalker1910 e-mail following if it hadn't been for her deep interest in others. And here is an interesting aha realization - on the Internet, no one knows how old you are. Mom came across in her postings as a vibrant, fun-loving, bad ass (in the best meaning of the word - see Brene Brown), not as some old woman.
Which brings me to another important aspect of my mother - she always used whatever tools were at hand to forge relationships. Okay, so I admit to encouraging her to get online, but she was open to it, was eager to hear what others had to share, particularly those who thought differently than she did. Mom loved a good discussion, a respectful back & forth.
Throughout my life, Mom modeled being a full-throttle human being who didn't think in terms of age. I never thought of Miss Ashby or Miss Phoebe, Mildred Pitcairn or Doris Pendleton, Grandma Rose or Viola Ridgeway as OLD - they were, as seen through Mom's eyes, vibrant & fascinating women.
Perhaps the most fascinating thing about reading Ashton's wondrous book, This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, is how age has been such a foreign idea in my life. Mom was a kid of 70-something when my sister-in-law chastised me for leaving decisions up to her; in Kerry's opinion, her m-i-l was too old to be left in charge of her life. Both my sister, Mim, & I recoiled in horror at the thought of treating our mother like she couldn't cope with life.
Both Mim & I knew that such a day might someday dawn, but it sure wasn't then. As it turned out, it never did. Mom remained ageless & mentally independent until her last breath.
Oh, her body went south, that's for dang sure. Witness the messed up shoulder. But there are a lot of young men who have similar injuries from their hard-playing high school & college sports. Mom didn't have a serious impairment until her upper 80s - not bad!
Ashton writes, "As an Old Person in Training, I see the ninety-year old me as withered and teetery, but also curious and content." She sets the bar WAY below my mother! I remember the day before Mom took the tumble that landed her in the hospital for her last stays. We had lunch at the John Harvard Brew House in Devon, we stopped for ice cream along the drive down to Alexandria, Virginia (where Mom was throwing a brunch the next day for family & friends in the D.C. area), we had dinner in Maryland, her Maryland (she was Baltimore born). At each place we stopped, the servers warmed to & interacted with Mom to such a degree that John & I marveled. The young woman at John Harvard almost knelt in front of her, she was so affected by Mom. Not Mom's age or kindly manner or sweet smile - MOM, the person, who on that particular day seemed to totally shine through. Not withered, not teetery, just HER.
Mom was ageless. Anne Hyatt is, too. When Anne smiles, you feel bathed in a special light.
I think of the friends Anne made at Centre Bridge Inn, above New Hope, back when Barbara Trent played from 7-9 p.m. every Wednesday night. When we opened the door to the restaurant, people gathered at the bar would turn, their faces would light up & there would be a happy chourhorus of, "Anne's here!" So many of them confided to me that they'd dreaded getting old, but knowing Anne had banished those fears - here was a woman in her early 90s, facing the challenges of memory loss, and still out there partying. Not withered, not teetering, just LIVING.
Barbara no longer sings at Centre Bridge Inn, but Anne is still - at 95 - getting out to hear the music. John & I saw her last night, at the last of our small hometown's Borough Park Concerts, all of us tucked into someone's welcoming home due to rain. Through rain & up quite a few stairs, Anne got there & blissed out listening to the wondrous bluegrass & olde timey music of the Hillbillies of Cohesion. We saw her son & daughter tucking her in the car to go home, all beaming smiles & deep happiness. The look on her elderly face transcended age.
That is how friends & pleasant acquaintances at her senior residence respond to Anne - with awe at how she transcends age. She walks into a room & all eyes turn toward her. She isn't any important person, doesn't have great wealth or social position. But she is authentic, kind & unfailingly friendly, with a ready smile & generous spirit.
That is what they see, what folks saw in Mom - her transcendent spirit. Ashton talks about being Old in Training. Let me be Spirit in Training, living & acting in a way that people don't see the wrinkles, the weariness, the unsteady gait. May I become someone whose doctor sees as ageless, who is forever greeted by friends shouting out with happiness, "Deev's here!"
d
When Dr. Beight said Mom was young, I believe what he truly meant was that she was ageless, something to which we can all aspire. Ashton Applewhite talks about the value in being an Old Person in Training. Mom stood out because she was just a person. Not old, not young, simply real.
The Internet became popular when Mom was in her 80s, but it wouldn't have touched her life if she hadn't already & always been interested in other people. She got into using it - she'd dictate, I'd transcribe - because of getting involved in a lively discussion over the issue of female ministers in our male-only church priesthood. Typical Mom - she belonged to both the pro ~AND~ the con discussion circles, explaining that she agreed & disagreed with different aspects of both arguments.
Mom would never have developed her own Mindwalker1910 e-mail following if it hadn't been for her deep interest in others. And here is an interesting aha realization - on the Internet, no one knows how old you are. Mom came across in her postings as a vibrant, fun-loving, bad ass (in the best meaning of the word - see Brene Brown), not as some old woman.
Which brings me to another important aspect of my mother - she always used whatever tools were at hand to forge relationships. Okay, so I admit to encouraging her to get online, but she was open to it, was eager to hear what others had to share, particularly those who thought differently than she did. Mom loved a good discussion, a respectful back & forth.
Throughout my life, Mom modeled being a full-throttle human being who didn't think in terms of age. I never thought of Miss Ashby or Miss Phoebe, Mildred Pitcairn or Doris Pendleton, Grandma Rose or Viola Ridgeway as OLD - they were, as seen through Mom's eyes, vibrant & fascinating women.
Perhaps the most fascinating thing about reading Ashton's wondrous book, This Chair Rocks: A Manifesto Against Ageism, is how age has been such a foreign idea in my life. Mom was a kid of 70-something when my sister-in-law chastised me for leaving decisions up to her; in Kerry's opinion, her m-i-l was too old to be left in charge of her life. Both my sister, Mim, & I recoiled in horror at the thought of treating our mother like she couldn't cope with life.
Both Mim & I knew that such a day might someday dawn, but it sure wasn't then. As it turned out, it never did. Mom remained ageless & mentally independent until her last breath.
Oh, her body went south, that's for dang sure. Witness the messed up shoulder. But there are a lot of young men who have similar injuries from their hard-playing high school & college sports. Mom didn't have a serious impairment until her upper 80s - not bad!
Ashton writes, "As an Old Person in Training, I see the ninety-year old me as withered and teetery, but also curious and content." She sets the bar WAY below my mother! I remember the day before Mom took the tumble that landed her in the hospital for her last stays. We had lunch at the John Harvard Brew House in Devon, we stopped for ice cream along the drive down to Alexandria, Virginia (where Mom was throwing a brunch the next day for family & friends in the D.C. area), we had dinner in Maryland, her Maryland (she was Baltimore born). At each place we stopped, the servers warmed to & interacted with Mom to such a degree that John & I marveled. The young woman at John Harvard almost knelt in front of her, she was so affected by Mom. Not Mom's age or kindly manner or sweet smile - MOM, the person, who on that particular day seemed to totally shine through. Not withered, not teetery, just HER.
Mom was ageless. Anne Hyatt is, too. When Anne smiles, you feel bathed in a special light.
I think of the friends Anne made at Centre Bridge Inn, above New Hope, back when Barbara Trent played from 7-9 p.m. every Wednesday night. When we opened the door to the restaurant, people gathered at the bar would turn, their faces would light up & there would be a happy chourhorus of, "Anne's here!" So many of them confided to me that they'd dreaded getting old, but knowing Anne had banished those fears - here was a woman in her early 90s, facing the challenges of memory loss, and still out there partying. Not withered, not teetering, just LIVING.
Barbara no longer sings at Centre Bridge Inn, but Anne is still - at 95 - getting out to hear the music. John & I saw her last night, at the last of our small hometown's Borough Park Concerts, all of us tucked into someone's welcoming home due to rain. Through rain & up quite a few stairs, Anne got there & blissed out listening to the wondrous bluegrass & olde timey music of the Hillbillies of Cohesion. We saw her son & daughter tucking her in the car to go home, all beaming smiles & deep happiness. The look on her elderly face transcended age.
That is how friends & pleasant acquaintances at her senior residence respond to Anne - with awe at how she transcends age. She walks into a room & all eyes turn toward her. She isn't any important person, doesn't have great wealth or social position. But she is authentic, kind & unfailingly friendly, with a ready smile & generous spirit.
That is what they see, what folks saw in Mom - her transcendent spirit. Ashton talks about being Old in Training. Let me be Spirit in Training, living & acting in a way that people don't see the wrinkles, the weariness, the unsteady gait. May I become someone whose doctor sees as ageless, who is forever greeted by friends shouting out with happiness, "Deev's here!"
d
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