In November of 2007, a family friend, M, was involved in a horrible accident. She was standing in a parking lot next to a building when a car backing into a space hit the gas instead of the brakes and pinned her to the building, immediately severing both legs just below the knee. She was actually very fortunate to survive the trauma and blood loss; luckily a fire station was right next door and they had medical personnel come right over who were able to slow the bleeding. The doctors had to amputate both legs to remove her knees.

M was an avid bowler. In fact, the accident happened at the bowling alley. She was very active in taking care of her grandnieces and nephews. She had never married, but had an active social life, especially with her bowling friends.

M was about 70 when the accident happened. Although she always had great spirits after the accident and excelled at her physical therapy, the doctors discouraged her from getting prosthetic legs. At her age, it would be a waste of time and money. Too much work. She was doing just fine in the wheelchair; why did she need new legs? This was the woman who, less than 5 weeks after the accident, proved to the medical staff that she was comfortable and capable enough with the wheelchair to leave on a day trip from the hospital go down to NYC on her family's annual trip to see the tree at Rockefeller Center. But she was over 70 years old... the doctors just didn't see any reason for new legs.

Fortunately, M had an amazing physical therapist who advocated on her behalf, and last week, M stood on her two new legs, took a few steps (with a walker), and threw the first ball to kick off the bowling league's new season. She's not re-joining the league just yet, but I bet it's only a matter of time before she will be. She won't ever run; she will always rely primarily on her wheelchair to get around; but she fought the hard battle and got the legs she wanted after all... despite what her doctors said.

Last year, my 97-year-old great grandmother suffered a major stroke, affecting the left side of her body. About the same time, she fell and broke her hip and hit her head. For several days, we were all preparing to lose her. At first, she didn't seem to recognize or respond to anyone, but eventually she recognized and understood people, although she couldn't talk.

Although she was 97, the doctors felt she was strong enough to have hip surgery to treat her broken hip. She was later moved to an assisted living facility where the nurses feed her and make sure that she gets fully dressed each day.

Today, I received an update email from my grandmother. Her sister had gone to visit my great-grandmother at the nursing home and found her sitting in the lounge, having had her hair done in a salon earlier in the day. She had just eaten (although been fed) in the dining room with the other residents. She's strong enough to be in a wheelchair for short periods of time and is encourage to spend time outside her own room. Even though she's 97. Even though she can't talk. Even though she can't walk. Even though she can't feed herself. She's still treated with dignity and the nurses and doctors do all they can to make sure her quality of life is the best it can be.

M lives in the United States.

My great-grandmother lives in England.

To me, these two examples show a fundamental difference in how our elders are treated and respected here and, well, everywhere else. Doctors here tried to talk M, a spunky 70-year-old, out of even attempting to use prosthetic legs because she was "too old." The doctors and nurses try to give my 97-year-old great grandmother, who cannot talk, walk, or feed herself, as normal and active a life as possible. M had to fight to be treated with any respect, to be listened to. My great-grandmother, who doesn't even have a voice, has received more medical attention and encouragement, and consequently made greater improvements, than any of us ever anticipated. We, as a culture, really have a lot to learn.