Blog Posts

The Nitty-Gritty of Aging

Late adulthood for many is the best time of life, marked by emotional growth, new pleasures and greater insight into past experiences.

Still, what I call the little uglies deserve some attention too. First, there is the unwelcome discovery for a healthy person that the body can have more than one problem at the same time. It’s one thing to know this theoretically but quite another to experience it. Before I recovered from persistent leg cramps, I learned that my jaw was so inflamed that I had to get off solid foods for three weeks. That would have been a good way to lose weight for a person not hooked on chocolate and ice cream.

Another minor frustration is the discovery that getting up from a squat position, after putting away pots and pans, for example, is now a struggle. I can get up from sitting on the floor, but awkwardly. I used to be able to do that easily, without thinking about it. When did I get this stiff?

Bathroom urgency is yet another little ugly. No illustrative details needed here.

Everyone knows that hearing declines with age. Once, speeding on a rural road in an unpopulated part of Maine, I heard my partner say “please.” What she really said was “police.” Luckily, I slowed down in time to avoid a ticket.

Something that did not happen before is that when I sit in the back seat of a car, I can’t hear the conversation in the front seat unless I stick my head between the seats. Being excluded from a conversation makes me feel uncomfortable and, yes, old.

Hearing loss is, of course, a serious ugly. Hearing aids, like canes and walkers, signal old. I should adjust my attitude here so that these signals instead shout, “I have survived.”

Loss of finger dexterity and hand strength is another frustration. Getting plastic wrap off bottles and packages or removing tops of jars can be maddening.

Shortness of breath is a little annoyance—little, so far. Out in the woods, I manage well on level paths but hilly sections can be extremely difficult. For the first time, I use a walking stick in my nondominant hand, because a physical therapist advised that.

Humor seems to be the best way to cope with these small indignities. Maybe that is the only way. When a friend was 95, she told me that as soon as she wakes up, she asks herself, “Am I dead or was I just hit by a truck?”

In a small group, when everyone tries to remember a forgotten name, the one who calls it out gets cheered. For now, laughing is not just a healthy response to a memory gap but a sign of group solidarity. One day the gap might not be so amusing.