My pronoun of choice is “dotage.” Okay, it isn’t a pronoun. But it sounds so much better than senile. It sounds natural, unlike dementia. “I am in my dotage” seems like a warm hearted statement of what comes to everyone. It isn’t like “suffering from dementia” which brings to mind vacant stares and emotional outbursts.
I am not sure I am there yet. I think my wife is trying to convince me I have lost it but it is an uphill battle because I think she is further down the road than I am. In my dotage the grandchildren will be able to take me on walks without worrying about me getting violent. If they tell me I always spring for ice cream, I will spring for ice cream. It is risk free for them as long as they make sure that I don’t spill anything on my shirt that they will need to explain to their mother.
I am wondering if being in your dotage is like being a drunk. I have not been around drunks much but I have seen some get belligerent and others sitting with a happy face. I like to think I will be a happy dotager.
Coming to an elder near you. Be nice to him, it may be me.
homo unius libri
Opus 2022-032: Ode to Old: Noun of Choice
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