Being mega-old
Susan Jacoby has a lot of relatives who lived to be old. Mega-old, in fact. And, from what she’s seen of the debilities of extreme old age, she doesn’t much like the prospect of getting there herself.
Oh, it’s okay if mental and physical health are intact. Most of us like to think that, were we to live well into our 90s, we’d also be living well. But most of us like to think a lot of things that aren’t all that likely.
On the bright side, it’s not impossible to make it to the 100-year mark with a fair amount of vigor, and faculties largely intact or at least functioning. In fact, half of centenarians are not significantly disabled by dementia or physical illness; the other half are.
With a mother who’s pushing 97, I’ve witnessed a lot of the 90-plus segment of the population. There’s no question that some are living active, happy lives, although I can’t seem to conjure up any statistics just now on what percentage of the whole they might represent. I do know that the conditions of extreme old age vary enormously from person to person, with some living a life that in their younger days they would have begged to be released from, and some hale and hearty and going strong.
My mother, fortunately (knock wood) is somewhere in that huge area in-between, but fairly functional and fairly happy, and seemingly well-cared-for in assisted living. She sometimes expresses surprise at still being alive, but also says she’s quite content to be so. But I’ve seen her lose almost every friend she ever had (and she had plenty) and most of her acquaintances, too, and that’s hard.
My mother once told me that her own grandfather, born in the early 1870s and fairly healthy till he died at 93, used to remark wistfully, “It’s hard to be the last leaf on the tree.” I think she may obliquely be saying the same thing. But, thankfully, she’s nevertheless glad she’s still sticking around.
And so are we.
I plan to live forever, of course, but barring that I’d
settle for a couple thousand years. Even five hundred would be
pretty nice.
My grandmother made it to 97, her cousin to 102, and her father to 94. My father manages at 84 but says rather wistfully that if he’d known he was going to live this long he would have taken better care of himself. A lesson in that.
I already am in a condition which many would consider suicide rather than living. And yet, it is not really that bad… once I learned to work within the limits. In many ways, I am just like a little old man. Peevish and grumpy at times, but with limited ability to do more than bark. Though should something come a little closer, I probably have more going on than a little old man.
I must say, the young in me reviles what I am. I want to get out, go camping and hunting, ride a horse, learn engineering, and do many other things. For the most part, though, I am stuck at home. I did try suicide, seriously. I found out life is not in my hands, not even my own. So, now, I live as I may, enjoy what I can, and move on. I don’t have the maturity for this that time gives the truly elderly. I am, however, learning.
Then again, if I had the power and the wish, and someone garnered a curse from me, it would be that they live long, maybe forever. That, my friend, would be hell. I feel, in some ways, as if I am already there. I know it will end, in it’s good time though.
We all like to think that we can beat the old age and the Grim Reaper, but we can’t.
I’m 61 and I’m hoping for another 15 to 20 years of good health, and not expecting much more than that. My dad was long gone to Alzheimer’s by his mid-70s.
The sight of Chuck Berry collapsing onstage this weekend was sobering.
Losing my wife was a devastating blow. No matter how you cut it, it’s hard to come back from that. Friends keep dropping by the wayside. If you’re not good at going out there and finding new friends, it gets mighty lonely.
And a sex life? When I was young…. well, it was a lot easier. Bodies are breaking down. Who wants to show this old fat body to a new lover? It’s tough.
I’ve taken great pleasure over the past few years in following the ups and downs of your Mother’s condition. I thank you for sharing and am well pleased today to hear that she remains well, fairly active, and chugging along! Delightful news!
God bless Neo-Mom! All the best for her . . .
My own mom is now 88 and going strong; she don’t take nuthin’ from nobuddy (God bless MJR-Mom as well).
(My late wife’s grandmom made it to 104. Last leaf on the tree, indeed; she once remarked so sadly on how all her friends were gone. She was pretty darn active until around 100 or so.)
A friend asked her 95 year great grandmother how she was, her answer:
“Still alive g-d dammit!”
Well…I’m getting there too.
But…I’m still active although the sight of my younger colleagues doing things (mostly physical) does give me pause. However, intellectually – as a teacher – I can arm-wrestle these kids to the ground (or whatever).
I can still learn many things, some practical some not. I can cook a good meal and drive safely. I do have friends, but each year I find myself reading the college class obits column and remembering when we were young and students.
Mostly, I still have my wife of 50+ years alongside. We have seen the good, bad, and just plain ugly – together. More love than ours one cannot hope for…
For all of which, I do thank God.
But “Go not silent into that good night/Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
Charles
My great-grandmother lived to be over a hundred years old. It was sad at the end, as she lost a lot of her mental faculties, and eventually had to be put into a nursing home when she became completely bedridden. Plus, she had lost her husband while they were in their forties. She ended up being a widow longer than she had been married.
My grandmother was taken in her 70s due to leukemia. That wasn’t a great way to go, either.
Perhaps your great-grandfather was familiar with the poetry of Oliver Wendell Holmes?
“The Last Leaf”
http://rpo.library.utoronto.ca/poem/1030.html
My grandmother is 96, and she definitely has lost a lot of her faculties. Recently she had a stroke-like episode (it looks a lot like a stroke, but the doctors can’t seem to figure out what it is), and had to be placed in assisted-living. She can’t move around much, doesn’t see or hear well, and has definitely lost some of her mental faculties. She’s still alive…but I don’t know if she’s much more than that.
My Mother, one of 7 children, died suddenly of a heart attack at age 38. Of her remaining 6 brothers and sisters, 5 were dead by age 40 as well. I will be 59 tomorrow and have counted myself blessed indeed for every day since my 40th birthday! I envy those of you speaking of the great longevity in your familes! I hope you realize how blessed you are to have had them for so very long.
ELC: I would imagine he was. Thanks.
But it was my great-grandfather–my mother’s grandfather. Here is a photo.
Doom: I’m sorry to hear you’re in rough shape. But I’m glad to hear you’ve decided to hang in there.
Clearly an unresolvable dilemma. My Dad died at 69, and I blithely said “well he had a full life”; and he did compared to my mother who died at 45. But, now that I have reached 75, I am not so certain about what a “full life” is.
Although I am in no hurry to depart, I would not feel cheated at any time.
I mourn for those, like Mother, who never have a chance to see their children grown, nor hold their grandchildren. The years after that are a bit of a bonus.
A wonderful lady at the facility where my Mother-in-law spent her final years, lived to 105+. The loving staff, and her daughter, kept her walking for exercise until she reached 100. At that point she rebelled, and told her daughter in her wonderful Virginia drawl, “Nancy I have walked long enough”. She was deaf, but still a voracious reader to the end.
A brilliant retired Professor and survivor of the Dutch resistance in WWII, had his final years destroyed by Alzheimer’s. I am sure that given the choice he would have opted out, rather than cause such pain to his family.
We all roll the dice.
Don, we used to call the line, (sic) “If I had known…” the fighter pilot’s lament.
My mom died at 78 of Alzheimers. I hope to go any other way than to have that hideous disease.
One of the hardest things i recall early on in the disease was her seeming grieving process at not having the thoughts and words she knew were supposed to be there. But oddly she found distant memories from childhood that seemed to be her most vivid and she could even articulate better when describing them. Those probably were her last memories to lose.
I live in a retirement community. Quite a range of ages are represented. From 60 or so to the late 80s. Most are reasonably able bodied and optimistic for oldsters. A few will be moving on to assisted living soon. My wife and I recognize that the day will come when we may have to make that move. Aging is no picnic. You lose your ability to do things that you once enjoyed doing. If you can, you grieve the loss and move on. The loss of a spouse makes the moving on that much harder.
My wife had to have a cancerous kidney removed in August and in those days leading up to the surgery, a fear of losing her grew in me. Such a joy it is now to have her regaining her strength and being her usual, lively self.
Such scares give you a glimpse of the road ahead. My desire would be to lie down to sleep one night and not awake. Unfortunately, most of us don’t have it that easy. I have been close to two people who died rather slow, painful deaths. Not something I would wish on anyone.
Enough of the dark thoughts. Whatever lies in store, I hope to face it with the equanimity. I’m beginning more and more to understand the wisdom of the song, “Que Sera, Sera.” Take each day as it comes and keep on dancing, even if it’s a slow shuffle.
I think a lot of it depends on what your occupation is.
As a music lover, I’ve notice how some classical composers and conductors (Igor Stravinski, Ralph Vaughn Williams, Leopold Stokowski, Etc.) were still creative in their 80s and 90s.
Being creative is the key to staying really alive.
When I was in engineering, and later computer programming (in both cases, mostly trouble-shooting, favoring a .45 🙂 ) I was most alive and feeling like I could go on forever.
Now that circumstances have forced me into early retirement and an absolutely soul-killing part time job just tom survive, the prospects are grimmer.
Being able to sound off in my blog helps some, but honestly, the pay sucks. 🙁
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“As a music lover, I’ve notice how some classical composers and conductors (Igor Stravinski, Ralph Vaughn Williams, Leopold Stokowski, Etc.) were still creative in their 80s and 90s”
And how others died in their 20s and 30s…
I’d prefer to live to an age where I can still do the things I enjoy today. Living in a home, unable to run, jog or move freely without assistance sounds like prison. To spend my last 10 years in virtual solitary confinement is punishing and demeaning IMO.
Dustoffmom,
Happy Birthday, and may you live to see many more.