Been There, Done That: Nine Decades And Counting By Alice Herb: More Indignities The Extreme Elderly Endure

By Alice Herb

In a previous blog post, I described some of the bothersome fears younger family members, friends, and even strangers choose to share with us “old” seniors. No question that it is annoying and confidence-shattering, even if expressed from sincere caring. But some issues faced by older adults are scarcely mentioned, or even go completely unmentioned. Those are the ones that need to come out in the open, and we need to vanquish shame. These are circumstances that most of us face on a daily basis.

• I’ll start with the relatively “easy one”. Not too long ago, I was very put off by the notion that I would need a cane or a walker, or, heaven forbid, a wheelchair. I used to almost run whenever I saw any of these practical aids. But then, as I began to feel uncertain about my balance, I did buy a very handsome cane that everyone admired. Soon that was not enough, and after spending a week in the hospital, I grudgingly ended up with a walker, but I only used it when I felt it was clearly essential. But now I happily parade around with my bright red walker and am able to move about much more easily. I named it the “Bentley,” but as I was rushing to an appointment, I was stopped at a median on Park Avenue by a man of a “certain” age who implored me to stop, or I would be knocked down by traffic. I replied that the Bentley would save me, to which he countered that I should rename it the “Maserati” with the speed at which I was traveling. I also broached the subject of a walking aid with my brother, who seemed to ignore me, but when next I saw him, he had a shillelagh, a handsome substitute for a cane.

• Long before walkers, I had to admit that my hearing was flagging. I have a friend who is an audiologist, but she shut me down whenever I suggested that maybe I ought to get a hearing test. She finally agreed to test me when I told her I had to walk around the room while teaching so I could hear questions; she examined me and prescribed hearing aids. I also had problems at meetings, at the theater, and in interactions with doctors, salespeople, etc. My standard reply was “I am not stupid, just deaf.” Often that was embarrassing for strangers, but even for friends and family. So I started to wear hearing aids, not happily, but they are essential for everyday life. But even the aids are not always enough, and I now have a small microphone that I carry when I am with more than one other person.

• Asking for help. For those of us who are stubbornly independent, who find it hard to ask for help, overcoming this issue is painful. It seems that one’s self-esteem, self-confidence, or not trusting one’s own mental capacity are shameful feelings to overcome. I find that many, if not most, people are more than willing to help and come forward without being asked. Two incidents virtually cured me of this silly feeling. The first was after a snowstorm. I had a doctor’s appointment that I didn’t want to miss. I figured my cane and a bus would get me there safely. The bus ride was a cinch, but getting off the bus was a major challenge. The back door opened to a pile of dirty snow and about two feet of space to alight. I hesitated, trying to figure out what to do, when a voice behind me said, “I’ve got your back. I will not let you fall.” As I stepped down, the man in front of me grabbed my arm and steadied me. And then the man behind me simply picked me up and carried me across the pile of snow and set me down on a safe spot on the sidewalk. It was amazing. The other incident was also extraordinary. I decided to go to Wegman’s, a supermarket almost 3/4 of a mile from my house. The walk down was good exercise, but then I bought a lot of food and decided to take the bus home. The bus arrived, but instead of releasing the ramp to allow me to roll up, the driver secured the bus, got up, and hauled my shopping cart onto the bus and waited until I was seated. He then asked where I was getting off. And when we got there, he once again secured the bus and took my shopping cart off. It was a bonanza for me. I couldn’t thank him enough. Amazingly, this act of kindness has happened several more times. Now I brazenly ask passersby to help me out. It shows me that there is still hope for this world.

• Now I come to something most secret, the one that elderly folks like me don’t want to talk about. I will simply call that “leakage.” There comes a time when most of us come to suffer from being unable to control our bladders or our bowels. It seems like a return to babyhood. A circle-of-life event described in Shakespeare’s sonnet: “Second childishness and mere oblivion, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.” Even the Bard tiptoed around the “leakage.” But it is a practical, important issue that physicians should discuss with their patients. If spoken about at all, it is too often in high-falutin language. But we all must be brave enough to speak out about these conditions, and they must be spoken about plainly and attended to. There are remedies and coping strategies, but we must be brave enough to voice our challenges with leakage.

In closing, if we are to live the best that life gives us at this time, we must get over the shame and secrecy about our bodily functions, or simply overcome prior personal standards that we are no longer able to observe, and give ourselves a pass. At our age, we deserve a break!

Alice Herb is a retired attorney, journalist, and bioethics consultant. Having reached the age of 90+, she’s more than ready to share her experiences and opinions with agebuzz readers. Want to comment on something she’s said? She welcomes your feedback at [email protected].

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