Flying in the face of old age (13): It aint getting any better

Chapter 13

Dear Rockie,

This is not going to be a ‘Happy Feet’ communication. I have been keeping a list for the research you are doing for the ‘Ageing Process’ as ‘Old Age’ is now called. I absolutely dislike the number of old age and old fogie jokes received weekly from all over the world in our Inward Box. For example, a message was received today which sort of defied my immediate temptation of hitting the Delete button which is what I do with ‘old fogie’ cartoons of old ladies with pendulant breasts. It seems that this old man, we will call him Charlie, went to the doctor who examined him and told him, “Charlie, I have bad news for you…you have Alzheimer’s Disease.” Charlie paused and said, “Well, that is not so bad. I can handle that.” The doctor, very impressed, replied “You mean you are not upset with news like that? That is…just amazing.” Charlie responded with, “Well doctor, it could be worse. You could have told me I had Alzheimer’s Disease.”

Poor old Charlie, I am afraid, is a symbol of today. Getting old not only ‘sucks’ as your generation ‘poetically’ says, but old age puts you out walking the pirate’s plank all by yourself; and I think most people are behind the plank walkers with a sharp stick aimed at the back. I do not believe it is an accident that most new, old age facilities, are located at the edge of a city and pretty well isolated. From a Sociological view it means we oldies are getting more and more marginalized and shoved to the edge. We went to three funerals this past month of people over seventy-five. If their families had not arrived for the event there would have been only five or six people in attendance.

As promised, Joan and I have been making a list of the problems we collectively are experiencing as the end of the plank nears and the sharpened stick points. They are, by no means, a full listing. Some of the problems of old age have been divided into: 1. Male, 2. Female, 3. Personal Health Problems, 4. Problems Caused by Government, 5. Misconceptions by Family and, 6. Worry About Being Alone.

Here goes:

1. Loss of respect. For instance, Joan and I were walking in the Launceston Mall recently. A couple young boys, about fifteen, came up and bellowed in my ear some obscenities and said to get out of the F…. way old man! A few years back I would have simply punched his lights out and stomped on his ankle as father taught me years ago. This time we were both fearful and got out of the Mall quickly. Another example is that a number of young girls were sitting on the side walk on Brisbane Street as young people do these days. They all had their feet sticking out and were trying to trip older pedestrians. I stopped and gave them a stern look. It used to work in my home town when an older person ‘stared us down’. We crept away, having been disciplined. If Father McGranahan looked at anyone, Catholic or Prot, we curled up in fear. One girl pulled her legs back. The others did not and one said, “What the F… you looking at Old Man?” There are numerous tales like this. They seem to get worse as we get older. In Japan and China and Turkey, we were revered BECAUSE we were old.

2. Joan is aware as we go to the gym a few times a week for a workout and swim that she is invisible to young women when in the locker room. She is simply ignored. One time in McKay, Queensland she was crossing the street pushing her bike when a young woman driver purposely drove at her, window down, screeching, “Get off the F…. road you old hag!” The above tales from both of us have been repeated many times in slightly different dress.

3. Personal health problems are, of course pretty intimate, so we will not reveal all but give you an insight that could help with the writing of your paper. I have severe arthritis, happily, Joan does not. Arthritis is in my family from grandpa to all of my siblings. Simple things, like standing up from a chair, in front of others, are not pretty. The pills we have to rely on increase with almost every visit to the doctor and are never-ending problems. We have both accidentally overdosed which brought out the ambulance and a ‘tut tut’ from our doctor. Searching the house for lost glasses can bring a search of the freezer and the spectre of Alzheimers. It seems that the media is having a wonderful series of field days about old age and forgetfulness. Being the oldest at a party with a mixed group of people, you are usually ignored if not ostracized. The trick I use is to walk up to a tight little cadre of diffident, badly dressed, young people and say something like, “I am having trouble getting a few hundred ‘friends’ off my Facebook. What can I do?” Immediately the circle widens and I am accepted for a moment. But, the real kicker right now in Tasmania is that when you turn 75 years old, you have to get a doctor to examine you…and I mean examine…and then possibly give you a pass for ONE MORE YEAR’S driving. This, of course, is repeated the following year. I have never had an accident after sixty-five years of driving.

As you know we are going back to the USA and Canada for a family visit. Trouble is my sister is dying at age eighty-eight and my two brothers are in their advanced 80’s. I do not look forward to once more being referred to as ‘Baby Brother’ but will have to take it.

For the trip we have to tell the pension people that we are going to be gone, the date we leave, why we are going and when we will be back. I have been told that they will also ask us where we got the money to travel. Will they believe that I save all change? I never even used to tell mother at age ten that Gene, Larsh and I were going snow camping for a few days. We just left a note on the kitchen table, cadged some food, took our bear paw snow shoes and went.

“Turn back, turn back, old Time in Your flight; make me a child again…just for tonight…”

Being treated like a child when you are 80 is one of the problems of ageing. Governments, especially, are getting good at imposing new restrictions which make you feel like an untrained dog. Oh, Yes, the medicines. We needed enough for three months just in case some airline went broke or a volcano blew up half way around the world and we had to live in an airport for a few weeks. So, our pharmacist did her work and we returned to pick up a reasonable size cardboard box filled with our life lines. We were going to travel with only cabin luggage but it now seems apparent that half of the baggage will be our pills. Having had luggage lost many times on other trips, we have learned to carry any prescription drugs with us…which immediately brings suspicion and examination probabilities from the airport inspectors. We have also learned to shut up, not smile, not engage in banter, take our shoes off on command and I have especially learned to not drop my pants when my suspenders were taken from me, illegal contraband that they are! Perhaps suspenders can be used to throttle someone…probably the kid behind who keeps on kicking the seat! Hey, not a bad idea.

4. Now, Joan and I are old. Happily old, I might add. We both limp. I need a wheeled walker so I can sit when I want. Joan has white hair as pure as any grandma’s and she looks like she really does have 20 grandchildren…which she does. And she knits and milks a cow. Government officials, it seems more and more obvious, belong to a new school of bureaucrats who view old people as enemies who are certainly smuggling something and are secretly aligned with the drug cartels of Mexico or have been Pol Pot’s adjutants. If my braces are confiscated again this trip I think I will not be wearing underpants and I will inadvertently DROP them! Sort of like the passage in the Bible, “Vengeance is mine saith the Lord. I shall repay!” On second thought, I better not as they would probably arrest me for hiding something concealed and lethal!

5. In the category of ‘Misconceptions by Family’ it becomes obvious that the issues of loins: children, somehow still think we should still pay for a bar tab or a lunch in town. They refuse to believe that we oldies ARE having money troubles or no longer can clean the house and windows like we did. They seem to think that we can pack up our houses and move to another place in hours. They do not seem to ask if we need something special and birthdays and Christmas presents and special days can be forgotten but we had better not forget the grand children. They do not want to think of us as getting old because then they have to think of themselves as also getting old. When you get old you become a hidden symbol of encroaching death. I know, Rockie, these above items seem tough and in some ways I have exaggerated…but not much. When I was a counsellor the number one statement made by old people was, “My children and grandchildren have forgotten me…they no longer care.” Now that many of our friends are in their 70’s or 80’s we hear, “My children and grandchildren have forgotten me…they no longer care.”

6. With our children scattered around the world and our grandchildren scattered even farther, we have made a decision. We know we will be facing our old age pretty well by ourselves. That is a given and we must be proactive. We like our kids too much to live with or close to them and they don’t want us too near either…fair enough. The idea of being alone is probably the worst thing that faces us. I will die before Joan, in all probabilities, and then Joan will have about 10-15 years by herself. Sad but no control there. Our decision is to move into a retirement village. The family is illuminatingly pleased. We have found one which allows us to keep chooks, our dog and we will dig up the ground and plant a new garden and a number of fruit trees and probably start a chapter of the ‘Old Age Ain’t for Sissies Club’. Not sure what to do with our pet pig and goat. We just bought a new canoe…a very light one…and soon we will be paddling into the Tamar estuary and Moulting Lagoon as well as the Huon River. We look forward to the struggle.

I am reminded of parts of a poem by Studdert Kennedy:

The man who is a neutral in this fight is not a man
He is bulk and body without breath.
`
Finally, I know not why the Evil,
I know not why the Good, both mysteries
Remain unsolved, and both insoluble.
I know that both are there, the battle set,
And I must fight on this side or on that.

Head first.

So, you see Rockie. The whole thing called life is always a struggle. Sometimes we win. Sometimes we lose. “I can’t stand shiv’ring on the bank, I plunge. Head first.”

Don’t forget to email us regularly when you are in Scandinavia. Maybe you will meet that Nordic god.

Hugs,

Grandpa. Grandma Joan sends her special love

p.s. I will get back to the bike trip down the East Coast of Australia in the next letter.