Decades ago, I was a waitress at a restaurant in Seattle where senior citizens frequently dined. Mr. and Mrs. Davis were “regulars,” and Mr. Davis had just celebrated his 80th birthday with us. While leaving the restaurant, they inadvertently left a drugstore receipt on the table — and oh, did my young co-workers and I yuk it up at their expense:
Ex-Lax, extra strength
Polident denture cleaner
Reading glasses, +4
Preparation H
Rolaids
Bengay ultra strength
Advil, 200 count
Budweiser, 24-pack (Can you blame them?)
Our seemingly callous laughter was really just youthful ignorance. We couldn’t conceive of the challenges involved in growing old and were too young to grasp the notion that some day this could our own shopping list.
Fast-forward 25 years, and the receipt doesn’t seem nearly so funny. At the not so young age of 46, senior citizenship no longer seems light-years away. Already, I am experiencing some effects of aging, and not just in the form of fine lines and loosening skin.
I no longer have the boundless energy that propelled me through my 20s. Getting by on five hours of sleep is a thing of the past. My hair has thinned, my stomach is more sensitive. I struggle to remember passwords (in my feeble defense, I have at least 30 different ones) and create a weekly “Don’t Forget” task list on my smartphone.
All of this, and I’m not even 50. Aren’t things only going to get worse as more time passes? How much worse, and how the heck does one cope?
Who better to ask than a parent? In a stew, I phoned my 76-year-old father. A successful doctor who is passionate about his profession and still keeps a bustling practice (44 years and counting), Dad would know all about the perils of aging and, undoubtedly, would not sugarcoat it. I wish he had.
Although he peppered the conversation with humorous one-liners (“One advantage of senility is you get to hide your own Easter eggs.”), I wouldn’t call his experience with senior citizenship a walk in the park.
Should I follow in his footsteps, here’s a small sample of what’s in store for me:
Reduced height, to the tune of 4 inches. Once a towering 5 feet 10, Dad now strolls through life at 5 feet 6. This is astoundingly bad news for me, as I currently stand at a meager 5 feet 3. Furthermore, I am short-waisted — so much so that I am convinced my pelvic bone and 12th rib are one in the same. Whence do I sacrifice four inches? (Adding to my Don’t Forget list: Shop heel lifts on Amazon.)
Hearing loss. I triumphantly announced my hearing to be perfect, but why did I shift the phone to “my good ear” while conversing with Dad? More bad news: Medicare doesn’t cover hearing aids, so I can expect to shell out over five grand for the little gizmo.
Increased sensitivity to alcohol. Once upon a time, Dad could handle his VO Manhattan without issue. Now if he imbibes, he nods off within the hour, location be damned. This does not bode well for me and my penchant for quaffing down a Happy Hour martini
Arthritis, stenosis, osteoporosis — pretty much anything that hurts and ends in “is”.
Constipation and hemorrhoids. Oy.
Suddenly, my future became blazingly clear: I am a short, deaf, plugged up senior who can’t hold her liquor and is likely gorked out on Norco. The impending piles will be icing on the old-age cake.
Dad must have heard me hyperventilating (he spared no expense for his top-of-the-line hearing aid) and promptly handed the phone off to my Aunt JoAnn, age 77. A vibrant, active and lively soul, JoAnn cheerfully offered these coping mechanisms:
Don’t waste your retirement money on overpriced department store face creams. They don’t erase wrinkles — and so what? Damn it, you smiled big and laughed hard for those lines and jowls. This being said, do wear sunscreen and do not cake on makeup in an effort to cover up your age. You’ll look like a mime with cracks
Revel in the fact that you no longer have to rush to and from work, stressed out and exhausted. Enjoy your morning cup of coffee at a leisurely pace while giving thanks for last night’s Bingo earnings.
Know that your eyesight will diminish, forcing you to to swap out your 32-inch TV set for a 100-inch one. It’s just the way it goes
Don’t lose your sense of adventure. It’s important to challenge yourself by attempting new things: Gardening, painting, volunteering, whatever. Take up knitting and make unattractive booties for your family members who will feel obligated to wear them. Try your hand at golf; just be prepared to swear profusely as you hurl those expensive clubs into the lake.
Above all, stay active. As Cicero put it, “It is exercise alone that supports the spirits and keeps the mind in vigor.” I’ll drink (and squat) to that.
As daunting as the topic was, I was thoroughly impressed with Dad and JoAnn’s ability to maintain their sense of humor despite difficulties presented by aging. And well they should. Researchers found that after seven years, study participants who had a sense of humor enjoyed a 20 percent lower mortality rate compared to those who had difficulty laughing at daily events.
Life has thrown Dad some tough curveballs in recent years, including the unexpected death of his spouse, prostate cancer treatment, and a Parkinson’s diagnosis. Dad remains wickedly funny and is able to laugh despite these struggles. I hope to follow in his footsteps. My body and mental faculties may decline as I grow old, but this doesn’t mean my sense of humor and zest for life has to follow suit. I’ll continue to exercise, stretch, eat well and, above all, laugh out loud — all key factors of healthy aging.
Dad got back on the phone and shared what he views to be the best part of aging: You get to watch your kids grow up into wonderful, intelligent, generous and truly worthwhile human beings.
Although I don’t have children, his words filled me with pride (and tears), and suddenly, growing old didn’t seem quite so dreadful.
While many things diminish over time, love does the opposite: it expands and grows deeper. I value my loved ones now more than I ever have in my life, and I know this love will continue to strengthen with age. And in the end, love is all that really matters.
My father texted me the following day with one final plug for growing old: “Younger folk on the bus offer you their seats.” Dad was highly offended the first time this happened (at age 65), and promptly sat down in a huff. But he’s been nabbing people’s seats on the bus ever since.
Catherine Bongiorno, info@lifttolose.com, is a Mukilteo personal trainer and nutritional therapist who owns Lift To Lose Fitness &Nutrition, www.lifttolose.com.
Talk to us
> Give us your news tips.
> Send us a letter to the editor.
> More Herald contact information.
