It gets easier

Some weeks ago, I was talking with friends about what I would tell my younger self (late teens, early 20s). Variations of this meme have been around for awhile, the current iteration is what two words would you tell yourself.

I thought about what I would actually listen to from myself.  This is aside from giving my younger self good advice about drinking alcohol; drink lots of water, stay away from grain alcohol. (Really, stay away from grain alcohol and if not, be careful what you mix with grain alcohol). 

But there wasn't anything specific I could think of.  So many experiences, some painful ones I never want to re-live. But they made me who I am.  
 
So the two words I would tell myself would be focus (on) yourself.  Yes, the on is a third word - but critical. I have always been focused.  But for so long I was concerned about everyone else and what they were doing.  I paid attention to things that were out of my control.

It sounds like more of our narcissistic culture.  But truly, focusing on what I can control has been worth so much more.  I have so much more acceptance and satisfaction with who I am and with life.

Another thing I wish I'd known (now that I'm in my late 30s) is that life gets easier.  Who knew?

Of course some things never get easier (funerals, death) and I suspect they never will.

But getting things done, understanding my expectations, understanding what is likely to happen, routines, I get it now.  I am so much better at this stuff than I was straight out of college.

My body may not look like it did 20 years ago, but I'm coming to a place of acceptance with that.  It helps that I know that the media focuses on that very narrow perceptions of bodies and what they look like.  The majority of us are outside of that curve (the majority of women are not nineteen and a size 2).  While I understand this logically, I have yet to fully accept it emotionally.  And then I think about the standard that men have for attractiveness - men are not judged (as much) for how they look.

For the record, it makes sense that life gets more predictable as one ages. When you've had twenty additional years, those are twenty years to observe life and its patterns.  Life has a way of settling into patterns and routine.

Perhaps this is simply some sort of respite in parenthood between toddlerhood and raising teenagers.  But that's my take.  There are so many perceived negatives about aging, it would have been nice to know that there are some positives.

Class Reunion

Reunions are (were?) a cultural phenomenon.  Many movies have class reunions as their plot (Gross Point Blank, for example).

Recently I missed a significant class reunion for my college.  And I'm trying to figure out why.  I don't think I'm the only person who put the reunion on the back burner.  Our class missed the class news, we missed the official activities (no one wanted to volunteer).  I'm not sure how many people (from our class of 200) actually attended the reunion, but I suspect it was a low number.

When I graduated, I did think I would go to the reunions.  And I still might.

But I suspect that technology has greatly changed the landscape of reunions (much like everything else).

The point of going to reunions was to re-connect with people you had lost touch with.  To find out what they do with their lives, meet their spouse, see pictures of their kids.  In many of the books/movies/tv shows, a plot twist was to return to the reunion - having lost weight, had plastic surgery, made a million dollars.  I can't speak for any of my classmates, but I suspect that this was not a factor for missing the reunion.

And it's not that we didn't have a good experience, or remember friends fondly.  I think (can't speak for anyone else) that we did.  College was stressful and difficult, but it was transforming.

But the advent of social media has greatly changed this.  Now, I don't need to pay money for a hotel and transportation to find out what someone is doing - which couples are still together.  If I want to know, I can find them on facebook.  I can google them.  While there are some friends from college that I haven't reconnected with (or the holdouts who refuse to join facebook), there are a lot that have joined the site.  That I am already reconnected with (whatever connection through social media really means).  I can find out what they had for lunch.  I can find out who they will be voting for.  What enigmatic quote they are thinking of today.

So while I would love to have a weekend to spend with those friends (really, a weekend would be awesome) - I don't know that I value it like I would have without the social media presence.  Maybe it's that I've got young kids and travelling is expensive.  Maybe as the kids get older, it will be more of a possibility.  Maybe my college town is just depressing right now (it was always small, but now it's even more economically depressed).

Perhaps it's just the strange nature of the college that I went to, and the strange way we have of relating (or not relating) to one another.  Maybe I'm the only person still thinking about connections from college, when everyone else has moved on.  Maybe no one else wanted to coordinate a reunion (very possible) or be stuck holding the bag (also very possible).  Just something I've been thinking about.

Suicide

I was shocked and saddened to learn of the death of a friend/acquaintance from college.  We weren't close - we weren't even friends on a certain social networking site. I found out about his death through the alumni class notes (which should say a lot).  But at a small school with 1200 students, you pretty much know everyone, or know someone who knows them.  And we had friends in common.

I'm struck by two things.  First, I'm struck that he was really the last person (or one of the last people) I would have expected to suffer from severe depression and to take his own life*. 

So what does that say? Evidently just because you know someone's public persona (and you've debated philosophy with them once or twice) doesn't mean you know anything about their inner life - who they really are.

*Let me explain what I mean.  David Foster Wallace suffered from severe depression and wrote about it eloquently. I was saddened but not shocked by his death for that reason.  It may sound callous or crass to say, but that's my take.  When people suffer from a disease, it's not unexpected when you lose them to that disease.

So I return to - how much did I know anyone? The news had me wondering "WTF" all last week - I initially thought it was some sort of elaborate joke.

Second, I question my own perspective about my friends from college - many are all stuck in my mind permanently where we were fifteen years ago.  I've changed - a lot - but I keep expecting this nebulous "they" to remain just where they were. 

Sure, some people have gotten married (and divorced) and had kids - and I see lovely photos of their lives on fb. 

I don't know, this guy seemed so put together and successful.  I could have easily seen him running for office, a professor or successful businessman, just about anything.  Fifteen years ago, the future seemed wide open. 

Things change.  What the heck happened?

My husband says I have to get used to this, the first set of friends dying from 18 -25, the second set after 35.  I don't think the losses will ever not be shocking.


Finally - suicide in itself makes people sad and uncomfortable - we've changed from the 1960s where it was taboo to discuss...But even today - it does seem taboo to discuss.

Denial about Aging

I took an age-related medical test recently.  It was one of those tests that the medical community suggests that you take when you reach a certain keystone age. 

Fortunately, money is not a concern about the test (I have insurance; not great insurance but insurance). 

But I realized that I was uncomfortable about scheduling the test because of what it meant.  It means that I have reached the age where I have to schedule some age related tests. 

I wonder if that's part of the reason people shy away from getting such tests done.  Some people have philosophical issues about some medical testing (which I can understand and respect).  But rather I wonder if some of us are uncomfortable because of what that means about aging.  Some of us (myself included) would much rather be in denial that we're getting older, and that something will one day kill us. 

Does anyone want to admit that they're getting older, that they're not 23 any more?

I also finished The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion.  It was an interesting book; her ability with language is amazing.  In it, her husband collapses and dies of a massive heart attack at dinner.

During one part of the book, she thinks back to what she knew, if she could have prevented him from dying. She remembers that he had a test in the 1980s.  One of his veins/arteries was clogged - the doctor said that it was something to watch. He said a nickname among doctors for that artery was "the widowmaker".  Didion's husband, John, wondered if it would one day kill him.  Joan responded that no one knows when their death will be, and in what form.  Yet that was exactly what happened, fifteen, twenty years later.

Sometimes, do we want to assume that we are different and unique? That whatever is hurting or harming someone else, won't harm us.  It's a teenager point of view that never really goes away.  

Young at Heart

I saw this program the other day - about a chorus of seniors who tour the country. I just wanted to go on record - when I'm 90, I hope to be doing something like this.  Attached is a trailer. 

Getting Older

The power went out the other night around one in the morning. 

Back in the day, I would have overslept my alarm, I wouldn't have woken up. 

I know I'm getting older because I woke up (around an hour before my alarm was set) and reset my alarm clock.  I can't remember the last time I overslept an alarm.  I think it is getting older, and getting a good night's sleep on a regular basis (i.e., going to be before 1 a.m. on nights I have to work the next day).

I am still not a morning person, and will probably never be one. It's just a sign of aging (from my understanding) to wake up multiple times during the night and not need as much sleep. 

Quality of Life issues

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
                                           -Leonard Cohen

This business of living and dying - it's not for the faint of heart.  I've mentioned before, my husband's grandfather has been in and out of good health.  I honestly thought we had lost him two years ago.  So in that time, we've had holidays and celebrations - lots of good times. 

He is an amazing person, and wickedly intelligent.  If you can crack jokes in your 90s, you're wickedly intelligent, to my mind.

But he is really going now, and it's hard as hell to watch.  I won't go into the details, because it is an out of control situation that is driving me up a wall.  We are simply waiting. 

I don't want to mince words here.  We are waiting for him to starve to death or dehydrate. This sucks.


I believe this situation is inhumane. 

I know many may disagree with me.  They believe it's life taking its course.  I can't say.  I can say, I want things to be different if I make it to my mid-90s.  I want to have some time with loved ones and then be able to choose to move on.  That's not the law in my state but I want it to be. 

What's frightening is that no one wants to be at this place. Barely able to talk, unable to leave one's bed. (Does anyone actually realize what being unable to leave one's bed means until you spend time with someone unable to leave their bed?)

Someone I know said that we treat our dogs better than people, and honestly, I have to agree.  I know this post is angry and that's probably because that's where I'm at in the stages.

But no one deserves this. 

It's true, hospice has been called in.  They say he's not in pain, but when I saw him a few days ago I believe he was in some pain.  Who can say.  So thankfully no iv's have been ordered in - or feeding tubes. 

I simply understand the point that loved ones reach where you would rather someone be gone than alive in this state.  And this situation is totally incomprehensible (illogical) to me, which of course, pushes all my buttons.

So when it's my time, I hope that the law(s) will have changed.  I hope that we will allow people to choose and be able to go with dignity.  Sometimes the compassionate thing is to let people go - not to keep their bodies alive.

Music and Aging

Found it!  Finally! 

I was listening to npr the other day and heard a report from this reporter.  Just to keep everyone in the loop, I've been searching for this article through search engines for some time now, and couldn't find the right key words.

The story is here from 2006..."Does Age quash our spirit of adventure?"   So it had nothing to do with music at all, which is why I couldn't find it. 

Robert Sapolsky, a distinguished neuroscientist in his 40s, had a young assistant who played different music every day, from Sonic Youth to Minnie Pearl. That made Sapolsky crazy -- and curious about why his aging ears still crave the music he loved in college. Is there a certain age when the typical American passes from the novelty stage to utter predictability?

While I have certainly met older people who enjoy all types of music, I have found this observation to be true for me personally.  Listening to music I loved from high school produces an emotional reaction for me - I like current music, but it is just not the same. 

So it's nice to have my theories backed up by research.  It's true, I think some people are simply more experimental than others in terms of their musical preferences.   But I think as we age, we're less interested in experiencing and understanding new things.

Eventful visit to the Dentist

At the dentist yesterday, I was sitting in the waiting room when a lady around the age of 70 was walking out.  She was walking slowly and at first, appeared to have problems opening the door to the waiting room.  Then, she just stopped and stared straight ahead.  The nurse ran over and caught her before she collapsed; she dropped her purse.

A chair was brought, and questions were asked.  I have been working (very hard) on my "Mind your own business" way of life but in such situations, sometimes it's difficult.  Anyway, I overheard the nurses (and assistants) and the dentist asked her about blood sugar, etc.

I'm sure she was embarrassed and uncomfortable about all the attention she was getting.

But in the end, no ambulance was called.  A nurse walked her to the car and she drove away.

So this situation seems wrong (and frightening) to me on two levels. First of all, if you are not able to respond to direct questions and almost collapse, it seems to me that you probably do need to have an ambulance check you out.  Maybe it was just blood sugar.  But maybe not. I am dismayed that for whatever reason, (perhaps money), that this woman didn't feel an ambulance was necessary.

What was going on (to my very amateur view) was a possible mini-stroke.  That's not something to take lightly.

Then, I'm dismayed that after such an incident, she was capable of driving a vehicle.  I am all for people having independence, and as I've mentioned before, my city is not so good on the public transportation front.  But I feel behind the wheel of a car, she may be a danger to herself and others.

So, I understand the railing against a "nanny state".  But there is a point where a person's behavior and choices do impact others around them.  My parked car was totaled around ten years ago by someone who suffered from altzheimers. After he hit my car, he didn't even realize he had hit another vehicle.  He slowly turned around to drive home.  When questioned by police, he didn't know why there was paint on the front of his car, or a cut on his forehead.  Fortunately, he still had insurance (!!?!).  But he should not have been behind the wheel of a car.

I hope she got home safely, and I hope that it was just a momentary lapse.  I do think we need to discuss these types of things as a society.  I'm all for personal independence, but not at the expense of everyone's safety.

Bonus! No one freak out, this is just a picture I took after the accident some years ago. 

eta: 

Sometimes I feel just like a human being

The human body is an amazing organism.

So we incubate for ten months - and during that time develop a heart, lungs, bones and muscles. And what we have developed can last us until age 60, 80 or 110. I don't think about it very often (the concept of a heart beating for 95 years) because if I did my head would hurt.

Someone I know (my father in law) has now had a pacemaker AND a new hip put in, in the span of a year. Thankfully, not at the same time, but within a few months of one another.

Funny how we don't really think about those things (our hearts beating regularly or hip joints moving) until they stop working. It's also fairly awe-inspiring that we know enough to be able to treat these problems - so people don't have to live in pain (or as invalids) as they get older. No wonder the life expectancy isn't age fifty any longer.

Aging

Some years ago, I watched an amazing video with my grandmother. It was a recording of her mother (my great - grandmother, baba) talking about her life. She passed on when I was three. The recording was completely in Ukrainian. Since I understand some Russian (they are similiar languages) I could sort of make out what she was saying. It was just amazing to listen to her speak. Then there was a point where my grandma chimed in "And this is where she is complaining about where she lives". Because my great grandmother lived in a nursing home and was not happy about it. It was not one of the nice assisted living type places either. For many reasons, my great grandmother was not living with her children (what she had expected).

This past weekend, we visited my husband's grandfather. He has not recovered well from his accident. He has been in a great deal of pain. He has reached a point where he's not able to care for himself - and his wife is not able to care for him either. So he's in the rehabilitation part of the assisted living arrangement. Honestly, I think he'll be there for a few weeks and be able to move back. That's our current hope.

This is not the "nice" part of assisted living facility. The assisted living section is great. Apartments with high ceilings, kitchens and modified bathrooms. Everything a person needs to be able to care for themselves as they get older.

The part he's in has two hospital beds to each room. A curtain separates the roommates. In front of each bed is a tv mounted to the wall. The rooms don't have much in terms of decoration. A nurse's cart sits in the hallway - not disguising the very real fact that everyone in this wing needs 24 hour care.

Last year, around this time, we went to dinner with my grandfather in law in the dining room. On our way, almost every person we passed (many in decorated walkers) stopped to smile at my children. Many fine compliments (they're adorable! Brillant! Twins?? How exciting!) were given to my husband and me - as well as my grandfather in law on his great grandchildren.

This visit, in the hospital wing, only one older person acknowledged us with a smile. Most stared blankly ahead. We passed people in the hallway, sitting in chairs. I can't be too hard on them - they've got to be fabulously angry. Here they are, after a lifetime of work, probably not in great health. Probably in a great deal of pain - dealing with waking up each morning. They might not have much to look forward to.

My grandfather in law was glad to see us. He perked up immediately. He must have had his hearing aid in, because he could actually hear me discuss the persimmon tree in our backyard that still has persimmons. He seemed excited to watch goose and noggin run all over a side visiting room. They discovered a cart to push around. Thankfully my mother in law stopped my son before he crashed the cart into a stained glass window hanging on the wall.

As families get older, there are a lot of hard choices. We certainly can't take care of my grandfather in law - much as we would love to. As I get older, there will be a lot of hard choices for me.

The joys of going prematurely grey

I started to see grey hairs at age 23. I get this from my Mom's side, although she didn't start going grey until she was in her 40s. My aunt (her sister) and my grandmother both went grey early. So it was destiny, genetics or both.

So this is what my color my hair was before I had it dyed a few weeks ago.

And this is what it looks like now.



Yes, although the second photo wasn't taken in daylight, in my mind, there is a difference. My hair looks darker to me when I look in the mirror.

Looking at these two side by side now though, I'm not sure there's much of a difference.

I'm told that if I got highlights, they would cover the grey. And perhaps they would. What I found when I did that in the past was that I then needed both all over color and also highlights.

I could just go au naturale and not dye my hair - at some point I will do that. Currently, only the very top of my hair is going grey - so I won't go all white just yet.

We do live in an interesting culture for hair color. Since we're obsessed with youth, grey is not seen as wise, but old. And I'd hate for someone (particularly at a job) to think I was ten or twenty years older than I am because of my hair color. I don't equate grey with old - by any means, but there are some cultural norms I can't argue with.

So I'll continue to dye my hair - mow the lawn - do things to keep up appearances. In the end, I feel as long as I'm conscious of it, I'll be okay.