Recently I have noticed that there is a time — different for everyone — where you really notice you are old. Many of us sail through our 70s assuming that the only difference as you approach the 80s is a few more wrinkles and a few more aches and pains. We don’t expect to leap through meadows of flowers or do cartwheels anymore, never mind we probably never did that anyway! But there is a time — it can be a day or a week or even a month — when it becomes very apparent that you are not going to sail through quite so smoothly.
When we started this blog, we declared we were “proud aging women.” And we are. We still are. But in the three years since we started the blog, all three of us have experienced some serious health issues. A surgery we did not expect or one we did not want to have. Warnings from a doctor, “Better get that knee replacement sooner rather than later!” We have noticed that getting up from a chair with a grunt and a creaking noise is the norm now. There is also a noticeable loss of direct recall memory — “what IS the name of that woman who played that role in that movie?!” Thanks to Google, we can answer that question. But the day comes when you have to introduce a friend to another friend and you have lost their name. Completely gone. Blank. Embarrassing.
In our posts about dementia, we have tried to distinguish “ordinary” aging memory loss with the more serious “cognitive decline” or “dementia.” We have tried to ease your worries about forgetting, assuming that a reasonable amount of forgetting where you put your glasses or your keys or that you had an appointment today –is to be expected. And it is. We reassure ourselves that it’s just a part of getting older, and that’s okay.
But there comes a day when you trip and fall. You knew you had to be careful. You had been to many a class about preventing falls. But suddenly the pavement rises up to clobber you, and now you have a broken bone or two and you have entered into the medical care system with its pills and “interventions” and endless referrals to yet another specialist who will put you back together. Not quite the way you were, but hopefully close.
This may seem depressing, and if you live among other people of your age group and watch them decline too, it can overwhelming. We didn’t expect a rose garden. But we didn’t expect our bodies to betray and surprise us the way they do as we age. I’m not saying I expected to never have any health problems — after all, my dad lived to 94 and my mom to 98, and they both had their health problems. But in this process of navigating the 80s, my husband and I have laughed many times when we remember our parents constantly talking about their ailments. Now we are doing the same!
It’s tempting to pretend nothing is wrong. It is sometimes important and necessary. But denying one’s infirmities can be actually dangerous. I watched a pickle ball game today and saw more than one older person fall unexpectedly, thinking they could play like they did in their 60s or even 70s. The joints just don’t move as smoothly as they used to. The other day I tried to imitate the way Obama walks – smooth, rhythmic, graceful, lithe. But I didn’t come even close. And truth is, I never did walk that way in my youth! I can still appreciate watching him, though!
So we start out the new year 2024, still aging – still proud of our ability to write about our aging — still proud we can be honest about where we are and what we can do. But keenly aware of the passage of time and what it means for how we live our lives. To all of our readers and subscribers, we wish you all a reasonably healthy new year! Not perfect, because it won’t be. But manageable, with many moments of joy and satisfaction.