Doctor's Office - Dial one for an emergency...

I was six years old and passed out. Mom called our family physician, who came to the house, examined me, diagnosed heat exhaustion and recommended rest in a darkened room, cool compresses and avoiding direct sunlight.

I was 20 and getting married in college. Mom found a reputable gyn man, made an appointment for me for a birth control consultation so I could finish college.

I was in my 30s and 40s and called my doctor's office and made an appointment when a health need arose.

Today, I call my doctors office, get voice automation and a selection of choices - Dial 1 for an emergency; dial 2 to renew a prescription; dial 3 to leave a message that might or might not result in a return call. To get an appointment takes a minimum of 2 weeks (for an emergency). Otherwise go to the emergency room.

Mom is now 96 years old. She does not have an answering machine or voice mail. A highly intelligent woman, nevertheless she is technologically challenged. When she calls her doctor's office, she gets confused by the maze of automated choices. The evaluations she receives after her appointments suggest she can access her records online. Mom has never used, let alone owned a computer. Her solution? She writes her doctor a letter and mails it. When he calls back, she might not be home. She is a very active 96 year old, frequently on the go.

Not too many individuals her age live alone and independently. But there must be others out there. Folks who grew up in an age when the family doctor made house calls; when the telephone was used for emergencies; when automation was a unique assembly line procedure used to produce Model T Fords. There does not seem to be a great deal of room in our society for folks like her. Folks that face the terrible decision of giving up their cars in the face of fading capabilities, but who are still very capable of taking care of themselves. Folks who like to make trips not just to the doctor or the grocery store, but to their favorite restaurants, friends, the library, the hairdresser or masseuse. Folks who do not want to reside in Assisted Living Facilities or Nursing Homes or Elder Communities, but find such decisions forced upon them by the exigencies of day to day survival.

In the meantime, she writes a letter to her doctor to avoid his automated telephone system and struggles to face the reality that a mini-stroke may have changed her life forever and robbed her of the rituals that make her life livable.