Last September (September 1 to be exact) I was in a wheelchair in an ER with a fractured kneecap that occurred in a moment of fully lucid but disturbed balance. But here’s the good news: the beer bottle he was carrying was unharmed. Not a single broken glass or drop of frothy goodness was missed. (That takes talent!) I should have known better than to drink on the second bottle of beer, but as the saying goes, “What the hell. I was having fun.” Even better news: the white jeans he was wearing survived without marks or tears.

Have I learned my lesson? Yes, of course I have. I’m not a silly bunny. I don’t drink beer anymore. Now I drink white wine. Best of all, my sense of humor remains intact.

After a long wait in the ERI was wheeled into a room by an attendant who thought I was her “honey” and waited a little longer for a nurse (or anyone else) to show up. My daughter and son-in-law were standing behind my chair when a nurse arrived. Then the fun began. As if I weren’t there, the nurse asked my daughter details about how my injury occurred.

I was thinking, “Why doesn’t the nurse ask ME those questions? It’s MY injury!” Irritation ate at me until I finally turned the bulky flesh to face the nurse, knocking over a few cabinets in the process. (I should have turned the chair before she entered the room, but the space was small.) In a calm and courteous tone of voice, I said, “Excuse me, I can hear and understand everything she says and I can answer all of her questions.” . You can talk with me. I’m not senile.” And I smiled.

The poor woman was returned. Probably no one had ever spoken to him like that before. After all, she was just applying accepted protocol for dealing with an elderly person: it’s a cultural thing, a “given”: white hair equals incompetence or senility. In her eyes, she had done nothing wrong. She knew that and that is why I intentionally spoke to her in a calm and courteous tone of voice.

Older people get used to it and even expect (but don’t like) being treated like they don’t exist or are incompetent. It’s a social assumption that older people can’t think clearly or remember much and can’t hear or understand if you speak too softly or too fast.. After all, most older people are senile or close to it, so you have to be condescending and treat them like children.ren. Actually? ACTUALLY?

Not all the elderly are on the brink of senility – most are not even closed. Mature people do quite well if they are spoken to with respect and treated with the assumption that they are competent. If they have a mental disability, acknowledge their existence and treat them with respect.

Let’s go to the language of the elders element of the “old people are invisible” syndrome that I already experienced before I became invisible. It is beyond annoying and disrespectful. Here’s an unrelated, but typical example of the elderly iceberg:

My sister and her husband were dedicated runners. They were “mature”, not teenagers. On their daily tour of the community and their neighborhood, neighbors, sitting on their front lawns, many with soda cans in hand, yelled at them as they flew by: “you are so cute!“Was my sister angry? You can bet. Please don’t call mature people ‘cute’. A six-year-old is cute. Calling an old man ‘cute’ is as demeaning and childish as it sounds.”

There’s more here: If you are a healthcare worker, a mature patient you just met is not your “sweetheart” or “honey.” Terms of endearment are appropriate only when there is a romantic relationship. Egadi! What a revelation! An older person in a romantic relationship? [gasp!] That’s gross! Actually? No, it’s not. Oh, one more thing: Don’t call me “Miss.” It is condescending, demeaning, condescending, and disrespectful. (Okay, okay, I’m being overly sensitive and grumpy.)

If those in authority call you cute or utter another term of endearment, it’s tempting to want to drag and pummel them into reality, but don’t give in to the temptation. Turn them over and tell them how cute they are, and how sweet they are for telling you how cute you are. Make sure you smile while you do it. Take note of your nervous or confused reaction.

Becca R. Levy is a professor of epidemiology at the Yale School of Public Health. and professor of psychology at Yale University. She is a leading researcher in the fields of social gerontology and the psychology of aging. I have been following her work for a long time. She has been at the forefront of issues that occur as a result of the way competent older adults are often treated and approached.

Dr. Levy believes that many who use the language of the elders – including health workers – do not understand that it can be offensive and destructive. She says, “I’ve heard some people say they want to be able to use endearment, it’s their way of expressing their affection for older people, but I’ve heard older people say it can be belittling” and “In terms of healthcare settings, It’s probably a good idea to ask people how they want to be addressed, what’s most comfortable for them…”

I can dig deep into the weeds on this subject, but I think I have made my point. Don’t call someone with gray or white hair (or no hair) you just met “cute” or “sweetie” or use another endearment term. Don’t automatically assume they are incompetent. Acknowledge and respect its existence. Everyone gets old. One day you will be where they are now and probably in a [gulp!] [gasp!] romantic relationship – if you are lucky. (Yeah, yeah. I know it’s disgusting. My sexy old aunt, Miss Prunella, says “Get over it.”)