My thoughts on the challenges of aging bubble up after having read two pieces on the subject: the book Turning: The Magic and Mystery of More Days, written by a woman in her early 60s, and an article in The New Yorker, “Why We Can’t Tell the Truth About Aging”.
The book Turnings is a well-written conversation about how to prepare to enjoy getting older. It’s a great book to use as a stimulus for discussion, since it offers engaging exercises to examine what aging might have to offer you. But it is written by someone who has not yet experienced the realities of being truly “old”.
The New Yorker article, however, confronts the realities of aging with disturbing but necessary forthrightness.
There is, of course, a chance that you may be happier at eighty than you were at twenty or forty, but you’re going to feel much worse. I know this because two recent books provide a sobering look at what happens to the human body as the years pile up. Elizabeth Blackburn and Elissa Epel’s “The Telomere Effect: Living Younger, Healthier, Longer” and Sue Armstrong’s “Borrowed Time: The Science of How and Why We Age” describe what is essentially a messy business.
The so-called epigenetic clock shows our DNA getting gummed up, age-related mitochondrial mutations reducing the cells’ ability to generate energy, and our immune system slowly growing less efficient. Bones weaken, eyes strain, hearts flag. Bladders empty too often, bowels not often enough, and toxic proteins build up in the brain to form the plaque and the spaghetti-like tangles that are associated with Alzheimer’s disease. Not surprisingly, sixty-eight per cent of Medicare beneficiaries today have multiple chronic conditions. Not a lot of grace, force, or fascination in that.
A contented old age probably depends on what we were like before we became old. Vain, self-centered people will likely find aging less tolerable than those who seek meaning in life by helping others. And those fortunate enough to have lived a full and productive life may exit without undue regret. But if you’re someone who—oh, for the sake of argument—is unpleasantly surprised that people in their forties or fifties give you a seat on the bus, or that your doctors are forty years younger than you are, you just might resent time’s insistent drumbeat. Sure, there’s life in the old boy yet, but certain restrictions apply. The body—tired, aching, shrinking—now quite often embarrasses us. Many older men have to pee right after they pee, and many older women pee whenever they sneeze. Pipher and company might simply say “Gesundheit” and urge us on. Life, they insist, doesn’t necessarily get worse after seventy or eighty. But it does, you know.
When Socrates declared that philosophy is the practice of dying, he was saying that thought itself is shaped by mortality, and it’s because our existence is limited that we’re able to think past those limits. Time has us in its grip, and so we devise stories of an afterlife in which we exist unshackled by days and years and the decay they represent. But where does that get us, beyond the vague suspicion that immortality—at least in the shape of the vengeful Yahweh or the spiteful Greek and Roman gods—is no guarantee of wisdom? Then again, if you’re the sort of person who sees the glass as one-eighth full rather than seven-eighths empty, you might not worry about such matters. Instead, you’ll greet each new day with gratitude, despite coughing up phlegm and tossing down a dozen pills.
The one way to prepare for the challenges of being old is to develop a sense of humor that can help take the edge off stark reality. Judith Viorst’s book Unexpectedly Eighty seems to do just that. I haven’t read it yet, but I plan to. As I prepare for another gastroenterology test, I could use a good laugh.
I wish I had the chance to “ease” into old age. Instead I was thrust into it. I went from an active 62-year-old to a broken-down invalid with multiple health issues one year later. My life was in a shambles. My finances drained and my possessions gone. Nothing, not a book nor an article could have prepared me for this. Thankfully, with the help of some knowledgeable social workers and therapists, I was given the chance to get some of my life back. What don’t they tell you about old age? If you have no support from a network of family and friends, you will not fair well.
I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that, Bruce. But it seems like you are making the best of what you have, now. I admit, I am very fortunate to have a wonderful family to rely on.
Having lost siblings far too soon, i hope i can embrace the gift of hopefully a long old age with the grace of accepting that my body may be deteriorating but i am blessed to open my eyes each day.
I really enjoyed this piece, and went to my library site and ordered a few books to be put on hold.
This week we attended a farewell dinner for a friend of 40 years whose health has deteriorated and who will be moving across country to live with her daughter. I don’t know how that will play out as she has a huge support system here with so many friends.
One of the attendees, who I had not seen IN PERSON for a few years but who I keep up with on social media, told me how much she admires the way I am doing old age and retirement. A group of friends, a church community, worthwhile volunteer activities, and good health. That last quality, that’s the biggest of all. Keep your good health for as long as possible and other pieces will fall into place.
Reaching my 80’s took me by surprise. I had always felt pretty good and was active up until one evening when getting in bed for the night to read a few chapters before sleep I had a headache from hell with only time to tell my husband call 9ll. I had a brain aneurysm, was in a coma for 5 weeks and rehab for 9 weeks. Life changed at that point. Less energy, lack of balance, feeling sorry for myself, less focus and things that I wanted to do just disappeared. It’s taken time, but now I have learned to ask for help of a son with finances, getting meals on wheels and not be embarrassed by it, or asking for rides to the doctors’ appointments. When people ask how I’m doing I now laugh and say I’m still above ground. I don’t dwell on what’s next but take each day as they come. I come from a church community, and they have been a blessing. B
I had recently asked Chris how you were doing. It’s great that you have your church community for support. I’m waiting for a gastroenterology test appointment. My hiatal hernia is acting up. I’m grateful for Melissa’s support, and it’s one day at a time here as well.