old is good but frustrating.

It occurred to me today that part of the problem for young people, in dealing with the elderly, is that they are full of pent up energy that has to be even more pent up when they are dealing with those for whom life has slowed to a snails pace (and slower). It asks a lot of both parties in terms of patience and discipline just at a point in life where, for the young, it's embryonic and needs nurturing and at the other end of the scale, it's atrophied and what's left needs conserving.
At 59 I know I'm slow- my eldest grandson, an energetic 16 year old, passes me and says "Keep up Pingu!" - and yet I in turn rein back my movements to keep pace with someone who takes 10 minutes to walk a few feet.
On one side there is realisation that another person is being held back, is mentally gritting their teeth at the painful slowness of everything, and on the other an effort to try and understand how anything could take this long. Anger can be induced on both sides. Anger that a mind and body can become so limited and limiting.
Anger that so much else needs doing and energy is draining away. Anger and guilt at the feelings of exasperation on both sides.
For me the nurturing and harvesting of patience began early - at 2 years old I was exhorted to sing rather than cry while waiting in casualty to have a fracture diagnosed. I learned to people watch and occupy myself while waiting interminably for an ambulance home. This happened many times through the years.
As a brittle bone sufferer I learned early what pain and waiting were about but, also, that they could be harnessed as tools for dealing with the future and developing hidden reservoirs within myself.
So, as we take one slow step at a time, Mrs. X and I, for her this is full stretch, a giving of all she has and for me it's a respite when I scrounge a little more breathing space and wonder what it will be like when/if my time comes.