The pendant arrived on a Tuesday. White, plastic, with a red button. The kind you've seen in commercials since 1987.
My mother is 74. She lives alone since Dad passed. She still drives, still gardens, still tells me I worry too much. I'd spent $49 a month on that pendant plus the contract, and I felt like the responsible daughter for exactly one week.
That's how long she wore it. Actually, two days. I counted later.
White pendant on a hook, thin dust, sad window light.
“It makes me feel old. I'm not the lady in the commercial.”
My mother, 74 · two days after the pendant arrivedI wanted to say: Mom, this isn't about pride. But she was right, and the safety industry is wrong. A device she refuses to wear protects her exactly 0% of the time.
Short on time?
Skip to the watch that finally worked.