THE SOUNDS AND SPILLS of AGING

 There should have been alarm bells. But no. There were no five alarm warnings.

We were never warned about the sounds of aging. However the sounds of aging have become particularly worrisome to me. 

My grand and great grandchildren - plus an unfortunate number of movie makers - seem to think farting is funny. I find flatulence terribly embarrassing. Although it’s a common sound during the aging process, I just don’t find the humor in it. In my twisted mind, women especially, neither fart nor snore. Call me a prudish old fool but to be caught doing either is just plain humiliating. Thus I am often red-faced and mortified. A cough does not cover the body’s release. Loudly accusing the innocent dog of making the offending sound rarely works either.

Asleep, with no way of monitoring my snoring I make it a point to take a nap before venturing out to the theatre, movie, concert, any night time event where I may inadvertently snooze.

 No one cared if my old dog Bob snored but he did have a disturbing indigestion problem. The vet put him on a special restrictive diet. Still, Bob was a great mixed-carin rescue companion for many years who usually slept in my office while I wrote. In time I’d grown more or less immune to the sounds of his stomach gurgling and making all sorts of strange noises. One day, the noises were extraordinarily loud and seemingly non-stop. I looked to where I thought he was on his office bed to see if his noises were keeping him awake. But Bob was not in my office. I was alone. The strange noises were coming from me. Even alone my body grew hot with embarrassment. How does one stop the gurgling sounds that creep up without pain and therefore without warning? What if the stomach serenade happens during a dramatic pregnant pause during a theater scene?  A single cough just won’t cover unceasing sounds.

And don’t get me started on carbonated sounds. We used to burp; now we belch. The sound starts in our toes and gains momentum and power in the belly until a belch emerges, resembling the call of a wild moose or worse a fog horn.

Then there are the spills and ensuing stains. No matter how careful I intend to be, no matter how small the bites I take, I have never spilled as much of my meal as I do now. And usually the spill lands on a new and expensive blouse or pants that will be forever stained. It it’s red wine I spill, I cry.

In his later years my husband never wore a tee-shirt more than once. The spills never stopped. People always wondered why he wasn’t wearing silk shirts. He could afford them after all.

This free fall of food, drink, makeup and anything else I might be holding may be the result of less than acute eye-sight. But I do wear glasses and have my eyes regularly checked.  It’s not a case of cataracts; those were taken care of quickly and simply years ago. (Never fear cataracts!)

My hands were the source of my shaky problem. “A familial tremor,” the doctor pronounced. A sudden case of shaky in different body parts is a common complication among aging men and women. When my hands tremble, I smile and say, “Essential tremor” and shove the offensive body part into a pocket. (I always buy clothes with pockets and I don’t eat soup when dining out. It’s a rule.)  Shakes can be misinterpreted as signs of alcoholism - but not as much if you’re over 85.

Shaky just happens, usually at the least desirable time and that cannot be disguised by a cough either.

If, in some kind of mindless stupor, we raise our hands to our mouths we not only call attention to the tremor but display the raised veins, thin skin, liver spots and crepy wrinkles of our hands. Gloves offer a solution. But you can only successfully hide your hands in gloves on winter days or if you’re a debutant or performer who wears formal gowns with gloves that fit up to your armpits. But if you’re wearing gloves on a warm sunny day they also serve as a dead giveaway to advancing age.  (Forgive the use of the term dead. No one over seventy years of age likes to hear the term. But sometimes it’s the only word.) 

Back to my appreciation for clothes with pockets.

Apparently essential tremors can be the result of DNA. My paternal grandmother’s familial (or essential) tremor resulted in a shaky head. She didn’t worry about spills and she could eat soup in public. Her kindness and sweetness never faltered.

Grandmother knew what really mattered. So I choose to deal with the sounds and spills of aging and enjoy each breath of life!

WHAT'S NEXT?

 It feels rather like being the lone occupant on a huge slide. You’re sitting on the very top looking down and understanding the only way off is down.

But what’s waiting along the way down?

It’s the “what next” that disturbs seniors. I use the term seniors rather than writing "persons who have achieved a super advanced age." Everyone knows more or less what a senior is.

Seniors are young-old…from 65 to 74, middle-old is anywhere from 75 to 84 years old and then there is old-old, 85 years…’Till Further Notice.

The American Geriatric Society and the World Health Organization define oldest-old as an individual over eighty while the British geriatric Society uses eighty-five as the threshold for the oldest-old among us. Which I prefer.  Still, that particular designation doesn’t remove me from the top tier. Being very old. Older than I ever thought to be. But with the experience to write about…what’s next.

By the time we reach until further notice, we’ve kicked around a bit on the Golden Years Playground. (Whatever you do, stay away from the merry-go-round. Another spot you might not be able to readily jump off.)

During these so-called Golden Years, we’ve taken meds for very dry eye, body-aching arthritis, and sky-high hypertension.

The most popular topic of discussion at early bird dinners has become Health. Our health, our neighbor’s health and the person we met yesterday in the doctor’s waiting room. (Doctors are specialists so one is not enough anymore. We may be personally acquainted with four or five waiting rooms.)

“What’s next?” Is it a huge locomotive heading down the tracks right at us?  Or an ugly case of the shingles? Have you had the shingles vaccine? (Even if your memory isn’t all it used to be, we can never forget the vaccines!)

There’s a reason for having more than one glass of wine as the possibilities are explored.

I know because I’ve been to more of these dinners - and lunches - than I care to admit and heard the concerns. Maybe voiced a few myself. There comes a point in the aging process when it seems it’s just one thing after another - and usually not in a good way. Which leaves one thing to discuss: the state of your health. Or your neighbors, or your Uncle Stan’s.

As we age, our horizons aren’t as broad as they used to be. Most of us are retired, we’ve lost our professional identity, we don’t travel as much as we used to and we don’t attend parties and concerts any longer. Inevitably, these events begin about the time our day ends.

So where do our conversations  take us? Not to politics if we care about keeping our friends.

So, when it seems like one thing after another, we all wonder. Our bodies are on the decline. Our well-used parts are wearing out. We ask ourselves and anyone who will listen, what’s next?

It might be an all-to-common broken hip. (Don’t fall! Everyone will tell you that - like you would chose to fall willingly.) Or maybe what’s next is a months’ vacation on the French Riviera. Well, dreams happen.

A sense of humor on the Golden Years playground is the best way to deal with whatever comes next.

Who knows? What’s next might come as a delightful surprise.

Every adventure in aging depends on a little bit of laughter.

 

THE NEW AGE OF AGING

 I’ve been thinking about longevity more in the last few months than ever before. It’s worrying me.

According to the CDC, the average life span in the United States today is 77.5 years. Yet more and more people are living to 100 years and more. And what are we to do with the prediction that living to an active 125 years will soon be attainable? Good news if longevity is your goal.

Frankly, it’s not mine. I’m not ready to live 125 years or more. I am already 24 years passed my expected expiration date and often feel, well, tired. I’ve put two careers behind me and now it appears as if I’ll need a third. (Of course, once you reach a certain age you can’t plan too far in advance. A five year business plan might be out of the question.) Still.

Globally, the World Health Organization (WHO) predicts that, by 2050, the population aged 60 years or more will double, while those aged 80 years or more will number 400 million. This extension of the lifespan is looked upon mostly as a triumph of medical advances, stemming from access to better medical treatments as well as a focus on lifestyle and preventive therapies. 

So, I’m asking…is 80 fast becoming the new 70 in human years?

You’ll notice I have more questions than answers.

Longevity has been attributed to 1) DNA, 2) a positive attitude, 3) a Blue Zone lifestyle (which means physical labor, a plant based diet, red wine - and socialization.)

A study of super-agers showed they also may experience a metabolic slowdown, a slowdown of the aging process…which includes what’s happening in the brain. (Apparently just before he passed, Henry Kissinger at 100 years of age was still serving as a consultant to the government on foreign affairs.) But one size does not fit all. One book on how to live longer does not apply to everyone.

Are we interested in longevity because we fear the alternative?

We do know that heart disease and cancer are the two most common causes of death at any age. And both are subjects to ongoing research with increasing positive survival rates. Some scientists speculate specific targeting will eradicate cancer altogether in the near future. It’s already being done with varying degrees of success for different types of the disease. And of course early detection whether by chance or testing is the very best option. (I speak from experience.)

Genome editing, the art of changing the DNA of a cell or organism, holds great promise for eradicating cancer and a variety of other diseases. Like AI, however - which is proving helpful in medical issues - genome editing carries a multitude of ethical concerns.

The medical community has made great advancements in the skeletal department. We are fortunate to have an array of replacement parts…hip, knee, arms, elbows, etc. (And there are parts you can live quite nicely without, like the appendix.)

So many medical advancements have been made in the last 50 years; imagine what the next 50 will bring! A cure for the common cold?

And then if you’re feeling young and great, the next step is clear. Your appearance: a look reflecting how you’re feeling.

Cosmetic surgery can almost completely transform the human body, removing years of wear and tear. A boom for the anti-aging population - which are mostly women. To be clear, I’m not anti-aging but baffled to why 30 year old women are subjecting to Botox injections on a regular basis. I don’t understand the fillers, big lips, fish lips especially which rather resemble grouper lips. (Grouper is a popular Florida fish, a fish that sports unnaturally big lips. Ugly lips in my opinion.) But perhaps I’ll change my mind someday. And perhaps with whatever appearance procedures chosen, the cosmetic surgery prone individuals will look more like a 95 year old when they’re actually 125.

Is that a good thing?

When I did a small informal poll asking if folks would like to live to one 125 most said yes as long as they enjoyed a good quality of life. Quality of life is soo subjective. And chancy!

The eldest in many cultures are revered for their wisdom which is a good thing. But what if in this new age of aging, the information you possessed at 100 years became irrelevant by the time you were one 125? What then? A sense of humor will be more important than ever!

One of my friends once told me, “I’m not afraid to die. I just don’t want to miss anything.”

And there’s that.

 

 

THE SCOOCH

 I might have learned the following important information for anyone over sixty-five the easy way. The knowledge could have been gained perhaps as quickly and painlessly as watching a television news report or reading a book. Unfortunately, the easy way has never been my way. For that, I have no explanation or excuse.

When it comes to our aging bodies, more than anytime during the recent past, strength training is strongly advocated for women. Not the kind of strength we’re rightly known for, innate strength of mind and will. Instead, strength of the muscular variety is encouraged. But fear not! Strength training does not mean you will acquire muscles to rival those of the Rock. (Unless of course, that’s your goal.)

Now, I’ve never considered myself weak either in mind or body. And frankly never given either much thought. Recently that changed. While I recovered quickly and well from a surgical procedure I still had no idea of what was happening to my muscle mass or lack of during the process. I didn’t even know what muscle mas was.

Until the great Scooch Catasrophe.

I was in the supermarket when a receipt fell to the floor. Instead of bending down to retrieve it, I scooched. (A scooch is very much like a squat. Okay, let’s call it a squat.) And was stuck.

Stuck in a scooch - and I couldn’t get up.

Without the necessary muscle mass it’s impossible to get up from a scooch. Or just about any other position. Apparently, we women start to lose muscle mass around the age of thirty and the loss accelerates around age sixty-five. (Approximately seventy years of age for men.)  Fortunately, the scooching incident left me with no injuries…except for my bruised ego. (I felt very embarrassed to be stuck in the check-out lane in a squat…or scooch.) Kind customers rescued me and the rest continued their check-outs. Once on my feet again, all was well. Except that now I understood why building and/or retaining muscle mass is so essential.

The loss of muscle mass results in a reduction of energy and the daily activities we take for granted become difficult. Which, in turn, risk a plethora of injuries. What exactly is muscle mass?

Muscle mass is the amount of muscle in your body, skeletal and smooth which make-up the combined weight of your muscles.

Several months before when coincidentally one of my friends asked if I was doing strengthening exercises, I blithely smiled and said no, while my inner voice replied, because I don’t need them. Obviously, I did.

In medical terms this lack of muscle mass and ensuring weakness is known as sarcopenia, which is a natural aging process. In addition to weight-bearing exercises, eating thirty grams of high protein meals daily are recommended per meal. By the by, the new high protein shakes on your supermarket shelves are not your grandmother’s shakes. They’re available in several thirty gram flavors and are mostly delicious. My favorite is the café latte.

It’s never too late to start weight strengthening. Take it from a woman with experience, you don’t want to have a scooching incident when you are least prepared.

 

 

MORE ADVENTURES TO COME

 Not long ago I wrote a blog about the wonderful world we live in and how the medical community can supply us with new body parts. (Any part used every day for eighty, ninety, one hundred years is destined to wear out at some point.) In that same blog, I explained my feeling about my body…liking it to an old car, a little bit rusty in places complete with tires that are almost bald and an AM radio that is mostly static. And did I mention that almost everything under the hood is out of warranty? Yes, I’ve known for several years that the conveyance that gets me around is a rinky-dink older model that isn’t manufactured any more, a model that someday might need a new part.

That day has come and gone.

Luckily for me, an abundance of replacement parts are available and a young (you know doctors are all young nowadays) surgeon with amazing credentials gave me a new hip. He said the surgery would take him an hour and a half to two hours. (Most of my naps are longer than that.)

We truly are living in an era that should working parts go bad we can order new ones. It’s an era when hip replacements are common. We might even ask, who doesn’t have one?

I’ve discovered when a hip goes wonky that just walking can be dangerous. I’ve been known to lose my balance…but have not fallen thank goodness - I can still answer those wellness tests, “No fall. Ever.”

Several weeks ago, in order to circumvent any minor tragedy,  I started carrying a cane to keep me upright and on track. Frankly, my drugstore cane made me feel old. I’m convinced that if you feel old you will look old and worse, you will act old. (You will understand the feeling when you buy your first package of butterscotch candies.) I depend more on my sleek Jaguar-head cane, (I am a Jacksonville Jaguars fan) a gift from my daughter-in-law. 

So while reflecting on how I shall live in this New Year, I decided to only write one blog a week, this month you’re reading what may be the only blog. Taking my new hip for a spin as often as possible will be my priority. When time becomes precious - which it should for anyone my age or more, setting the proper priorities is vital. I went from walker to cane in three days, from cane to look-no-hands in two days. 

In the process I discovered I have sarcopenia - age related loss of muscle mass. Instead of bending down I scooched in the grocery store the other day and my body froze. You know the old, “I can’t get up” story. That was me. Sooo embarrassed. Kind shoppers came to my rescue and I soon became ambulatory again. (Once on my feet again, held on to the grocery cart for dear life!) 

I no longer scooch and I have a new topic to blog. Watch for - sarcopenia, body-building over eighty.

Sharing my adventures in aging with you will continue to be one of my top priorities. So, scooch or no, weekly or monthly, I’ll be back. The best way to age is to do it together!

 

 

NEW YEAR...NEW ME!

 I’m getting a new hip the day after tomorrow. I’ll be dancing soon! Not really. I’ve never been a Fox-Troty or Waltzing Matilda type of dancer. Years ago my grandmother gave me ballet lessons in the hope I would become graceful and my skip, trip and shuffle way of ambulating would become a thing of the past. Um. No. It didn’t happen. Still clumsy. But because I am a positive person I’m confident I will be walking totally upright in a matter of weeks.

Not long ago I wrote a blog about the wonderful world we live in and how it can supply us with new body parts. (Any part used every day for eighty, ninety, one hundred years is destined to wear out at some point.) In that same blog, I explained my feeling about my body…as if it were an old car, a little bit rusty in places with tires that are almost bald and a radio that is mostly static - and everything under the hood is out of warranty. I always have known my beloved car is a rinky-dink older model that isn’t manufactured any more, a model that someday might need a new part.

That day has come.

It’s almost like I have clairvoyance. Yes, one of my parts has gone bad and given out. Fortunately, it’s not my engine or the transmission. It’s my left hip. (Not to be confused with My Left Foot!)

Luckily for me, an abundance of replacement parts are available and a handsome surgeon with amazing credentials is going to give me a new hip. He says the surgery will take him an hour and a half to two hours. (Most of my naps are longer than that.)

We truly are living in an era that should working parts go bad we can order new ones. It’s an era when hip replacements are common. We might even ask who doesn’t have one?

I’ve discovered when your hip goes wonky that just walking can be dangerous. I’ve been known to lose my balance…but have not fallen thank goodness - I can still answer those wellness tests, “No fall. Ever.”

However, I have lurched and lunged, winced and bit my lip a bit.

Several weeks ago in order to circumvent any minor tragedy I started carrying a cane to keep me upright and on track. Frankly, my drugstore cane makes me feel old. I need to retire it as soon as possible. I’m convinced that if you feel old you will look old and worse, you will act old. (You will know when you buy your first package of butterscotch candies.)

So while reflecting on how I shall live in this New Year, I decided to only write one blog a week, this month you’re reading what may be the only blog. Taking my new hip for a spin as often as possible will be my priority. When time becomes precious - which it should for anyone my age or more, setting the proper priorities is vital.

Sharing my adventures in aging with you will always be one of my top priorities. So, come what may, I’ll be back in this same spot with another blog shortly. The best way to age is to do it together!

AGING COACH

 An Aging Coach?

Whaaat?

I’m aging just fine by myself, thank you. 

I had no idea that I needed an Aging Coach. Did you?

But just think of all the famous game coaches who have helped refine athletic talents. Coach Madden, Bobby Bowden, Nick Saban, Sparky Anderson, Andrew Bailey, Phil Jackson and the never to be forgotten, Ted Lasso.  (Just kidding about Lasso.)

Yes, there are football coaches, baseball coaches, swim coaches, soccer coaches and just about any kind of coach you can think of, and yet now there’s a new coach in town. An Aging Coach.  A man or woman who guides senior plus citizens and helps them (us) identify and achieve our aging needs and goals. (If we have or need goals)

Transitions can be difficult - especially the transitions we encounter as we age. How many times have you looked in the mirror, screamed and shouted, “Yikes! Who is that person?”

And talk about challenges! We older-but-better people have challenges we never dreamed of having. Let’s face it, help is always appreciated.

Thinking that this new Aging Coach occupation might be another career for me, (I am very old with 80 plus years of experience and I have the chin hairs to prove it.) I have researched the qualifications to become an Aging Coach. And here’s what I found.

There are none.

An Aging Coach is not required to have earned a certificate stating his or her qualifications and there are no regulations to meet. However, if you are truly dedicated to becoming an Aging Coach you’ll find several online courses and advanced education courses that can be yours, usually for under a thousand dollars. If you earn a certificate through one of these courses, you at least have something, a professional appearing piece of paper to frame. (Or you could computer create one.)

Your goal as an Aging Coach will be to offer guidance on the path to longevity and support a sense of well-being. If you wish, you can charge for your aging expertise…whatever price you believe is fair. There is no set price. And it could be a part-time job.

Additionally, you won’t require the overhead of an office. If you have a computer, and know how to use it, you’re in business!

There are similarities in aging that all of us encounter for instance - our parts give out, need a hip replacement? Another opinion and always appreciated - help finding the right surgeon for cosmetic surgery, especially those professionals specializing in lifts for face, butt and boobs.

An Aging Coach can help deal with hearing loss or the dimming of eyesight. You as coach may even help with those coming to grips entering a slower life pace (this can be especially challenging for former Type A personalities.)

The most difficult part of aging might be loss…losing lifelong friends, family and loved ones. In these cases an Aging Coach is the person to call, the one who will listen, understand and care.

Come to think of it, an Aging Coach just may be another name for Dear Friend.