There is little dignity in ageing, Father.
We are the butt of jokes
And many of them are true.
‘What did he say?’
‘Can you open this for me?’
‘What do I have to do?’
‘Do I know her?’
We are prodded,
By medical practitioners of every ilk,
Who seem fascinated about
our state of mind.
And we accept it,
walking the corridors of medical facilities
in gowns that leave our unattractive features exposed;
to access our intimate body parts;
which others clean up;
accepting help with basic activities.
It’s not that others want to humiliate us.
They seek only to help.
It’s just that I feel my dignity went …
wherever it was they took my clothes.
And then, Father, I remember:
That Jesus died an undignified death—
How can I say thank you?
This is the kind of life you’ve been invited into, the kind of life Christ lived. He suffered everything that came his way so you would know that it could be done, and also know how to do it, step-by-step. (1 Peter 2: 21, MSG)