Elderly? Surely, Not I

Thursdays are usually upbeat, hopeful days in that you're pretty sure you can make it through Friday and then be rewarded with a relaxing weekend.  I was of this belief and perhaps even thinking about it when I suddenly found myself splat on a busy downtown San Francisco sidewalk.

Embarrassed?  Of course.  Chiding myself for the stupidity of falling?  Certainly.  In pain?  Yup. Bleeding? Unfortunately, affirmative. 

Thankfully, several passing people were kind enough to wrap my gashed leg with a towel offered by the nearby florist and get me into a cab headed for the emergency room.

No complaints about my treatment there.  Since my gash was hardly life threatening, I did have to wait my turn for an available doctor but I also got to hear the stories of other patients.  Top of the most interesting character list is the guy who overdosed on something but insisted he was ok because he was part of the Occupy movement.  Nothing confidential in the ER, since only a shower curtain separated our beds. 

I got my stitches and was discharged with a prescription for pain killers, information on what to do in case of complications and a fact sheet on "Fall Prevention, Elderly".

Elderly?  Elderly?  Good thing the nurse took my blood pressure before I left the ER since it was surely elevated now that I was deemed elderly.   What's next -- a walker, large print books, early bird dinner specials? 

What boomers calls themselves elderly?  And will we ever?  This post has a homework assignment: coin a word for this third act we're in. Something with panache and pizazz.  Anything but elderly.