If Age Is Just a Number, Why Does It Multiply?

Summary

The text reflects on the complexities and contradictions of aging, juxtaposing the youthful self-perception of the mind with the physical realities of an aging body, and the societal treatment of the elderly.

Abstract

The essay "If Age Is Just a Number, Why Does It Multiply?" delves into the paradoxical experience of aging, where the mind retains a sense of youthful vitality while the body succumbs to the inevitable decline. The author expresses gratitude for the years lived and the cognitive abilities preserved, yet acknowledges the frustrations of physical limitations. Discounts and freebies are seen as small compensations for the inconveniences of old age, and the essay contrasts societies that revere their elders with those that abandon them. The author critiques the middle ground of contemporary society, where the elderly are neither fully cherished nor completely forsaken but are often marginalized. The narrative humorously touches on the shared commiseration among seniors about health issues, the necessity of mobility aids like canes and walkers, and the extensive medical care required in later years. Despite these challenges, the author maintains a positive outlook, determined to enjoy life to the fullest.

Opinions

The author is appreciative of life but acknowledges the mixed blessings of aging, such as discounts that are more psychological than financially significant.
There is a critique of societies that either venerate or abandon their elderly, with a particular focus on the inadequacies of how the elderly are treated in contemporary society.
The author points out the irony in the elderly feeling the same mentally as they did in their youth, despite their bodies telling a different story.
Mobility aids, while necessary, are seen as a nuisance and a symbol of lost independence.
The medical establishment is portrayed as an inevitable and somewhat impersonal part of aging, with doctors treating patients as part of an assembly line.
Despite the ailments and societal attitudes, the author expresses a resilient determination to make the most of life.

A Young Brain in an Old Body

Image purchased from iStock.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I’m still here after all these years. It’s nice to be alive and still able to use my brain for things like writing this essay. I can even have some fun if I try hard enough and don’t spend too much money.

Speaking of money, two nice things about growing older are the discounts and the free stuff. Sometimes the discounts are so chintzy they don’t make that much difference, but they feel good, anyway. You feel privileged if you get to spend two dollars less than the person in line ahead of you. It’s psychological but allows you to stick your tongue out at the rest of society. At our age, that’s important.

Some societies venerate their old people. They consider them wise and worthy of respect and care. Their children take care of them until they pass away, even if it means three or four generations living in the same house and annoying the living hell out of each other.

Other societies give their elderly members food to last a while, then leave them out on a prairie somewhere to die. This is fine for the younger members of the tribe but very unpleasant for the person stuck out on the plains without any means of entertainment, let alone means of survival. If you are stuck outside until you die, you should at least be able to have a few laughs before you pass away.

Our society is somewhere in the middle. Nobody venerates us, and leaving us somewhere to die is illegal. Senior members get Social Security, discounts, AARP, and other little perks, but in many ways, we are looked upon as nuisances. Grown children would rather put their elderly parents in a home than have them living with them. Doctors sometimes don’t take us seriously. Politicians court us only because there are a lot of us who vote, and we have opinions. People make jokes about us, only some of which are funny.

Sometimes we make jokes about ourselves. This helps us to get through things like aching knees, arthritic hands, weight gain, lack of energy, forgetfulness, and other miseries. When two or more older people get together, the conversation invariably turns to ailments. This is because we live with them every day, and they sometimes take over our lives. Comparing aches and pains becomes the easiest way to have a conversation.

How are you today?

Don’t ask! My sciatica is killing me.

Ooh! My brother had that. It wouldn’t go away. He had it for ten years until he died.

Thanks for telling me that! You just made me feel worse!

The funny thing is, our brains keep telling us we are the same people we were when we were twenty years old. After all, we haven’t left our bodies since then, most of us still have the same first names, and we have all those memories. Our bodies are telling us a different tale, though. They are saying things like, “Hey, you idiot! What are you doing, walking down the street without a cane? Do you want to fall and spend five hours in the emergency room? Huh? Huh? Well?” That puts a damper on that feeling like a twenty-year-old thing.

Canes and walkers are another thing. Some of us can no longer safely walk around without them, no matter how hard we try. It’s a little thing called balance, and it also tends to abandon us as we age. There are different kinds of canes and walkers, some more expensive than others. The trick with a cane is remembering it and not leaving it somewhere, as much as you would love to do so, and be rid of the freakin’ thing. We only have two hands, and a cane takes up one of them, which could be used for more fun stuff than staying on your feet.

Walkers come in two main types: the metal ones without wheels and the “rollators” with wheels and a seat with a top that can be lifted to store stuff. The metal ones without wheels are a pain in the rear. They scrape along the floor or sidewalk, and the person has to lift them to stop the scraping. They make a hell of a noise in the process. Rollators are God’s gift to the senior walking world. They are lightweight, roll along with no trouble, and make staying upright easy. The fact that they make you look and feel ten years older than your chronological age is less important.

Another characteristic of older age is that you feel as if you are single-handedly supporting your doctor, the rest of the medical establishment in your neighborhood, and the local pharmacies. Most of us can remember the days when we never had to go to a doctor, at least not for anything serious, and we only had to take an occasional aspirin or Tylenol or Pepto-Bismol for whatever was ailing us.

Now we have primary care doctors, endocrinologists, neurologists, podiatrists, and an army of other specialists, many of them eager to take the money from our insurance companies and process us through like an assembly line. It’s not unusual to wait for two hours in a doctor’s office only to be seen by the doctor in a ten-minute session. Rule of thumb: Bring a book if you have a doctor’s appointment.

Despite everything, it’s still good to be alive. I don’t know about the rest of you, but I plan to make the most of it.