Not alone in this world of active baby boomers

Smile and carry a big tape measure

When Michelle from Medical Guardian, which sells medical alert systems, called Tuesday morning, it was not a good time.

I had been peacefully writing in my pajamas when the Carpet One guy called to say a worker was coming to put in the “transition plates” between my new hall and old bedroom carpets. I couldn’t say no. I had been waiting too long for what should have been done when the new carpet was installed three weeks ago.

“Give me an hour,” I begged.

I rushed to shower, dress, and hide the most egregious clutter. Into that mad scramble, the phone rang. Twice. One was a reminder of my hearing aid appointment. Okay, okay, sure. Bye. The second was Michelle, triggered by my answering a few questions online. (Don’t type in anything if you’re not ready for a sales call!) I explained what was happening, and we agreed to talk later.

The doorbell rang. This well-dressed white-haired man stood there smiling. I thought the Seventh Day Adventists are back, but no, this was the guy putting in my carpet plates. Bill was chatty. I gave up trying to write, especially considering he was hammering in my office doorway.

I learned that Bill is 83. He has been working on carpets for 66 years, and he lives in a senior community, Longview Hills, a few miles north. I grilled him about the place enough to learn that I don’t want to live there. Too far out of town, killer homeowner’s fees, no pool, windy all the time.

All this while, Bill was efficiently hammering in the transition plates. Does it bother your knees, I asked. Nope. His back hurts sometimes, but he’s been lucky. He’s still working because he likes keeping busy.

When he found out I was an author, he wanted to buy some of my books for his wife, who loves to read. He was short on cash, but maybe . . . To my astonishment, he brought in a gray sock loaded with quarters. He counted out enough on my kitchen table for all three Beaver Creek books. I autographed them, amazed.

Before he left, Bill wanted to show off his bright red GMC Sierra pickup. Twice as big as my car, it has all kinds of special features. He also showed me a picture of an old Chevy Nova being renovated. Cars are his weakness, he said.

No wonder he’s still working.

I didn’t get much writing done, but I had a visit from a very nice man, sold some books, and saw that an 83-year-old can be fit and happy and still working for the fun of it.

Hours later, Michelle called me back.

Like Bill, Michelle of Medical Guardian is old enough to be retired. In fact, she received her “gold watch” (actually an Apple smart watch) from the company ten years ago. She works from home a few days a week now and enjoys it.

She told me I sounded young on the phone. I said, “Thank you.” It’s good my voice hasn’t caught up with my wrinkles.

Michelle blew my mind when she said I had called them before, on Oct. 13, 2022 at 7:36 p.m. I didn’t remember that at all. But I had just fallen through my deck and was lucky I only had a broken rib and bruises from hips to toes. It scared the bejeebers out of me. Maybe the pain clouded my memory. Those cowboys in the movies who break a couple ribs and get right back on the horse are total fiction.

Maybe I encountered a fast-talking salesman three years ago instead of calm easy-going Michelle, who seemed to have plenty of time to chat about our lives and dish on the other companies selling alert systems. Don’t go with a company that doesn’t specialize in these things, she advised. Don’t get locked into a multi-year contract you can’t get out of.

Medical Guardian offers the same services as the other companies: a home landline system, or a more portable pendant, wrist band or watch with an emergency button. When you push it, a person at one of their call centers answers and helps you assess your situation. They can call up to four contacts or go straight to 911. If they don’t hear you talking, they’ll call first responders. You pay a bit for the equipment and then about $40 a month. The rates go down if you commit to paying quarterly or annually. With a one-year contract, you get a free lockbox.

Because several readers have suggested I get a smart watch, I asked about those. Michelle stopped wearing hers, she said. They have many great features. You can use them to call for help, but they’re not set up to talk to you or contact your friends and family. Maybe Michelle was just defending the product she sells, but I don’t need a watch that essentially does the same things as my phone.

I didn’t commit right away. Stop and think about it is my new mantra since last month’s furniture-kit-in-a-box kerfuffle. But I did eventually sign up with Medical Guardian for the MGMove watch. Besides calling for help, it tells time and weather and counts steps, which is more than my old Timex does. I’m not fond of wearing anything on my hands or wrists, especially when I’m typing or playing music, but I’m willing to try it.

Michelle did not answer at the number she gave me when I called to buy the thing. I got her co-worker, Kelvin, who called me “young lady” and thought I was calling for my mom. But he knew his stuff and was easy to talk to.

I signed up for a year. Did I make the right decision? We’ll see. I feel good about it right now. Ironically, I’m paying for it with money I inherited from my father, who really could have used an SOS button.

Ads for alert systems have been flooding my Facebook feed all week, and now they’re even coming up between spider solitaire games on my phone. This is worrisome. Exactly what force is monitoring my activities?

On the good side, my Visa company contacted me to make sure the Medical Guardian charge was legit.

I almost asked Bill, the carpet guy, if he used a medical alert button. Then I thought no, that’s too nosy. Besides, he has a wife, and he seems too busy loving life to worry about pushing a button to call 911. Instead of a panic button, he has a tape measure attached to his belt. I think that’s cool.

I love your comments. Keep them coming.

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How did I end up alone? My first marriage ended in divorce. My second husband died of Alzheimer’s after we had moved to the Oregon coast, far from family. I never had any kids, only dogs. Now I live by myself in a big house in the woods. You can read our story in my memoir, No Way Out of This: Loving a Partner with Alzheimer’s, available at your favorite bookseller. Visit https://www.suelick.com for information on all of my books.