I did not much grieve the closing of my law practice. The law wasn’t my first career (the piano holds that honor), and I had the happy prospect of writing more books to keep my focus forward. Then too, I had a trip to Australia and New Zealand planned for my first month free of the courtroom, and holy Ned, was that a wonderful excursion.
But in the past few months, I’ve become aware of grief in a different way. It started when I qualified for Medicare, and was faced with a decision along the lines of, “You have to make this change now, or you could be dinged for it for the rest of your life.” I do not like being told what to do, but if there’s a certainty in this life, it’s that old people need good medical care.
Then I had to have a back tooth pulled. When my four impacted wisdom teeth came out, that was just a weekend spent in the company of Tylenol and old movies. The most recent extraction was… you’d have thought I was losing some typing fingers, not a part of me that’s honestly expendable and invisible to others. The problem, I came to believe, was the sense that my molar was a harbinger of the Great Decline–a harbinger I could not minimize, ignore, or rationalize away. This upset me.
Now I’m aware of smaller griefs. Thinning hair, and hair that doesn’t do what I tell it to. The sad day has not yet come, but I am steeling my nerves for that moment when I must buy and use… bobby pins. The last person I knew who used bobby pins was my granny and she was literally blue-haired.
When I cannot hear what a riding instructor says in the arena, I must consider that the problem is not that she’s ten yards off and facing away from me while my saddle squeaks and the horse thumps along, but rather, that I’m losing my hearing. My mom did, (lost her teeth too). My dad kept his teeth and his hearing, but lost his hair. Just my luck…
I now owe it to those around me to operate with a chronic level of self doubt: Did I hear you correctly? Do I smell OK? (COVID delivered a hit to olfaction). Do I look pathetic running around the grocery store in my riding duds at my age?
We have no rituals for these merit badges of decline, no compensatory consolations that raise us in the eyes of society or in our own eyes, so I’m just winging it, one ding and dent at a time. Part of my response has been simply to acknowledge that yeah, bobby pins weren’t on the schedule, and hair that goes all Cookie Monster on humid days is an adjustment. Three pairs of glasses to get through the day, same.
Lots of adjustments, so keep that old courage and resilience and gratitude handy, Grace Ann. On the good days, the dings and dents are balance by lots of humor, a good sense of who I am regardless of the space suit going out of warranty, and an increased appreciation for all that’s still working and still reliably mine to claim. I am also especially comforted by my siblings, writing peers, and barn buddies. We are aging as gracefully as we can, dammit, and like toddlers and teenagers, we are entitled to the occasional moody, rebellious, or pouting day.
This too shall pass, as shall even the need for three pairs of glasses.
Has life presented you with small griefs? Have you found any consolations you’d care to share?
I, too, started my career as a musician (violinist), then became a lawyer, then author (of knitting patterns, alas, not riveting books). Perhaps that’s why I love your books, especially the mysteries, so much. And I’m aging too, as are we all. I try not to dwell on the small griefs or the big ones, and console myself that I’ve been 5 years without a return of breast cancer and have two thirty-something children who seem so far to have turned out rather well.
Wow can I ever relate, we must be cousins! My consolations include the joy of the freedom from working as a nurse which was a grind but made me appreciate that troubles come at every age. I love that I can travel, & yes New Zealand was amazing as was Ireland & that I can still walk far & ride bikes & play tennis. And music, I do more now & it nourishes my soul. Apart from all that though I can see from my Mom & my in-laws currently what the 90’s entail & it’s daunting & takes courage! Thanks for sharing
It is SO HARD to experience that slow physical and mental decline, isn’t it?! I struggle with it often. I have not yet hit on what works for me to develop equanimity other than to repeat as a mantra: “This is nature. This is life.”
Hugs to you!
Seeing older women in the stores, still in dusty riding gear is hopeful, motivational to keep enjoying favorite activities. That the little horse crazy girl inside us grows up, but she’s still spending time with her first loves. I bet you look content, happy, maybe a bit tired, but fulfilled…and that beats botox, the latest leisure wear, and bag du jour.
Thank you for writing about living longer in a changing body, and about trying to cope while still enjoying it. I share some of your posts, like this one with senior gal pals, and chronically ill friends. Each time it adds to our connections, and we end up doing something like plant crocuses to see how they’ll do, wash windows together to better see the leaves bud out.
Well, I’ve already started the great replacement: new knee as of 2 years ago (though the bad feelings were tempered by an orthopedist telling me in my early 30s that it was inevitable based on my then-current woes and the fact that it actually helped) and hearing aids almost a year ago. Unfortunately, now my hip has decided to act up. I’ve had bifocals for many years but I’m starting to see less clearly up close even when I take them off, and as someone who’s been near-sighted forever, this is bothering me most. We won’t discuss my front lower tooth that had to be replaced several years ago because I developed a condition where the tooth was eating itself. That was especially hard because I’d never had a cavity and it’s in the front (but the replacement looks okay), so, yes, I cried in the dental surgeon’s office after it was pulled and I think that was the first time I really felt mortal.
The one thing that has helped, however, was seeing my Mom and the other folks at the retirement community as they went through their decline, but enjoyed life anyway (well, except for a few always crabby people). I remind myself that the only way to avoid aging is to die young and it’s too late for that! But I’m still waiting for a vampire to come along to bite me (my favorite fantasy).
Well, the body it is changing and there is no stopping it. The brain and memory is what I am more concerned with. I just retired from teaching and am enjoying the leisure time. I taught computer science and one thing my subject did was make me learn new things daily as it changes so fast. I find myself wondering if I will lose some sharpness now that I am not learning those new things.
So I am reading, doing daily word puzzles, and finding ways to get involved. My mom is having trouble with her memory and that is my biggest fear. I can take the achy hips, the grey hair, and loss of energy, but oh, how I want to keep that mental sharpness. Grace, you seem to have that in spades.
I refuse to accept matters as “decline”, but that might also be a function of being in much better health now than 20 years ago. Brain is still ticking over like a well-tuned gas guzzler, I’m on the treadmill daily leading to my doc raving about my “magnificent” EKG, & I’m using the advantage of being home more to prep organic, non-GMO healthy stuff from scratch. Not that I’ve developed any great fondness for cooking, but because I love the energy & improved figure it gives me.
Sure the asymmetric glaucoma is a pain in the socket, but I live in a country with good doctors. If I choose to start a career of passion at an age where others are contemplating pensions, there’s no one to stop me or bleat about what I owe to the expectations of others. I’m a firm believer that numbers on a calendar are guidelines only & a new haircut, good moisturizer, & that fabulous stem cell procedure that kept me from needing surgical intervention on my knee are a good start to becoming the hell on wheels holy terror that will scare lesser mortals.
Yup, I hear you, Grace. Lots of the same issues here.
Hair: why did I have to take after my two bald grandpas instead of my dad who had lush, thick hair till the end?
Hearing: going downhill along with my vision.
And who is that person in the mirror with all the wrinkles? Definitely don’t recognize her!
Oh, well, I remind myself that it’s much better than the alternative.
Let us also remind ourselves to carry on with courage for the challenges now and ahead. And be gentle and kind with ourselves.
At least you’re still on top of the grass. Be thankful. Thankful especially for memories.
I was excited to have cataract surgery on both eyes. I can now see without glasses (except readers for the tiniest of print) or contact lenses. I can make my gray/white/silver hair even shinier with purple shampoo that calms the humidity frizz a bit (mine is more like Rozanne Rosannadanna). I’m thankful for a good poop! And I can blame any thinking/memory/brain problems on my fixed up brain (platinum coil after burst aneurysm). I get to wear comfy, good walking shoes all the time because I have bad feet. I get away with wearing crazy leggings with short dresses worn as tunics – unlike the poor young things who must wear those tiny dresses with bare legs. I can wear what I want and be comfortable and stylish in my own way. I can poke fun at myself and laugh for now. The achiness is beginning so that’s the hard part. My many allergy meds (I used to love being outside in the spring) at least help me sleep past my hot flashes. A day at a time. Look for little joys
Oh, and a smile, eyes opened wider, and raised cheekbones (thanks Sweet Adelines) are an instant face-lift.
You know, I don’t really mind getting older (but would be horrified to need bobby pins!) so I guess everything is relative. I don’t think I’m aging especially gracefully, but years ago, I saw a wonderful bumper sticker on a huge boat of a Cadillac that said “Every day above ground is a good day.” I’m doing my best to remember that!
You are a treasure, Grace, not only to me, but to so many more. Never forget that, no matter what is coming, okay?
Welcome to the club! Your angst is very familiar—leaving a profession, carrying on with other projects, welcoming new grandlings, and basically, falling apart piece by piece! First, an unexpected hysterectomy (no, you are not still going through menopause, you have a problem!). Then covid which put an end to one of my main activities after retiring as social interactions were disrupted. Not surprisingly, depression then hit, despite being on medicines for it! A fall that required PT for recovery, despite no broken bones, but aggravation of my spinal stenosis.
2024 saw some corners turned after PT, and medication changes are improving my attitude. What have I learned? Stay active, be interactive, laugh with your friends about your latest health issue—which it seems you are doing! What you are going through is normal, painful though it may be. Just be happy that you have so many activities in which you can still engage, and an international community of readers that enjoy your books and want to give you support when you need it. All the best to you.
Although there are many things I’m not happy with that come with growing older, I’m still glad to be here. I have some brain damage from when I was a pre-teen (hit in the head) that resulted in grand mal epilepsy. I was so medicated that I essentially missed being a teenager, unless you can think of a teenaged Spock. About the only thing I have left over from that now is that one of my pupils will contract randomly which results in a balance issue. I also have constant ringing in my ears. I have knee and shoulder damage from a few falls.
Anyway, I’m thrilled to be above-ground, although recently I’ve started thinking of some estate planning for my only child. He was born when I was 4 days shy of 40. Not that I have all that much, but I want to leave my house and some other assets to my son – not Medicaid. I’ll likely very soon see an attorney about that.
As for joy, I retired this year after 42 years and 6 months although I am still working temporarily at my old job. I hope to be out of there in the next month or so. I’ll miss some of the people but not the work.
If I had it all to do over again, the main thing I would have done was to choose a different career. I would have chosen geology and paleontology instead of mathematics and computer science. If my knees weren’t so dang bad, I’d still be going out with my paleontology group for field trips. I’ll never forget the first fossil I found, and realized that where I was standing was once a shallow sea. It still gives me goosebumps just to think of that.
I forgot to mention that reading your books is a tremendous joy to me. I may not be able to walk on uneven ground, but I’ll always be a bookworm.
What to offer? All my life I had thin, lifeless hair with the only + a lovely mahogany color. Now it is gray/white, thin, and lifeless. The rest of me is sliding also just as you described. I have to fight the urge to descend into sloppy dress. With no particular gifts such as arts my consolation comes from love of my 2 rescue dog, both with special needs. I also love seeing pictures and videos of my grandchildren who are on the other side of the country.
I have hearing aides and am thankful for them. I did have line less bifocals but since cataract surgery will be graduating to readers. My advice (even though you didn’t ask) is to treat yourself to first class glasses. Mine had built in sunglasses that appeared when the light got bright and disappeared when no longer needed.
I hear you, Grace! I, too, am suffering some grief at the indignities of aging. Glasses aren’t new for me as I started wearing them occasionally at the age of 12, but they are now the first thing I reach for upon awakening. New to me is the second thing I reach for, my hearing aids. This is all before I swing my aching knees over the edge of the bed and attempt a vertical stance. While I have not yet started “wall walking” like my 97 year old Mom did in her later years, I do ensure that some sturdy object is within reach when I first stand should my balky knee decide to give way. As people have opined, “Getting old isn’t for the faint of heart.” And another friend pessimistically stated, “None of us are getting out alive.” On the plus side, I think we baby boomers are resisting age much more enthusiastically than our parents did. I remember my Mom turning 50 and suddenly starting to act “old,” while we baby boomers are going forth into our 70s and 80s still taking classes and being active. My husband & I recently started Qi Gong & Tai Chi classes, are planning to start learning Italian, and still play Pickleball a couple of times a week—albeit at a “Senior” level, not the hyper, aim for the head playing of those young whippersnappers in their 40s. My Dad used to say that if his name wasn’t in the obits in the morning, it was a good day. Stay safe. Stay well everyone!
I have been blessed with role models who are active, intelligent, caring and giving women in their 70’s, 80’s and 90’s. It is such a shame that we live in such a youth worshipping society. Embrace your age. You worked hard to get where you are!
I try to find the joy in all things. It doesn’t always work, but I am usually much happier when I do.
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My once lovely auburn hair has faded to a non color I refer to as faded red. I’m well aware that if I try to run I will probably overbalance and land flat on my face. I’ve had some parts altered or removed but haven’t needed anything replaced. Yay me! I’m itching to do some international traveling but have to wait on my husband’s being ready. My big regrets are not doing more adventuresome things when I was younger. I can’t change that but I can forge ahead and be adventuresome now.
When I reached 80 two years ago, I realized that I was well and truly elderly. I attended a huge genealogy conference a week ago and my Fitbit tells me I walked 4 miles a day in the six days I was away. So I’m ambulatory, but a bit bent, have thinning hair, a bigger middle than I’d like, and have barnacles growing on me. One of the comforts of my retirement years are your books! They delight me!
Thank you!
I just had cataract surgery on both eyes at age 76 plus two knee replacements plus thinning hair. Grrrrr
I signed up for Social Security/Medicaire. I consider myself literate although your books always teach me new words at the very least. I could not grasp Social Security/Medicaire literature or instructions. It may cost me, but I did my best… and I don’t speak Bank. That is becoming important.
But the missed notes at the piano, my hair, its color and style (bobby pins for years), my lack of fashion sense, don’t bother me so much anymore for which I am grateful. Our daughter has worn a hearing aid since she was 25 and already wears 3 pairs of glasses. I am happy to be in a place where both can be had. My mother at 96 has finally conceded to a cane in the house. There’s a walker in the closet for longer jaunts, but jaunt she still does. She doesn’t always know her grandkids, but she knows her weeds. As I see her still finding joy singing, stealing cookies, spending time with her word finds, I see hope for me. Maybe for all of us.
In this day of political upheaval I find myself questioning at first then going to my usual attitude and happy place of laughing! As I began reading, I had the thought” complaining about aging”. Luckily Then I saw some of the humor in your statements!
Yes, we all age. Some quite happily. Others in a darker place.
Now at 84 years of age, I am happy I can laugh. Did I expect to stay as beautiful, captivating and energetic as my earlier years? Yes and no. I am not beautiful, not as energetic but by gosh, with all my aches, disabilities, hair loose, etc, I am the happiest I’ve been. Life is great if we make it!
I’m with you on the small griefs. Body parts that need a lot more upkeep in the way of stretching lest things go south. As far as your hair struggles, get thee to a good stylist who can suggest cuts that work with your hair (finally, after 75 years, I have a cut that works with the multiple waves that infest my hair. I can style it in less than 5 minutes, and it looks presentable, and even a bit fun-loving!)
I applaud you going to the grocery in your riding duds. First, people might think you a bit eccentric and wouldn’t that be wonderful! More importantly, you are giving them an in to ask you about all things horses. Now you can talk about riding, the therapy program and promote a great program to the community. All because you went to buy juice in a funny pair of pants. Sounds like a good trade to me.
Hope the rest of your day is joyful.
Suzie Hunt
Thank you for writing this as I am in a similar place on this journey called life. It made me smile. I so enjoy your books.
The hair is now white, will turn to white candy floss at the first breath of humidity but shiny now I don’t dye it. Half my teeth are crowns or implants, tooth grinding being my Olympic sport and I’m known for always wearing two pairs of glasses, the computer screen ones being essential and the ‘seeing ones’ always being on the head. I’m here, still working, still able to stand and walk, so winning. Not a Bobby pin to be seen. Sod them if they comment on your riding duds, you’ve earned the right to wear them! Also, DO THEY NOT KNOW WHO YOU ARE?
I’ve had to use Bobby pins since childhood as I have thick but very straight and slippery hair. Wax pomade in a stick (bed head makes a good one) can serve the same function for handling flyaways but I have a freakishly oily scalp so that only worked when my hair was short enough to wash daily. The ‘90’s are frequently back in fashion in this rapidly cycling current era of fashion, and wearing intentionally visible Bobby pins or barrettes was quite the thing back then.
I think I’m about 20 years younger than you (best guess) but COVID also made my nose wonky; it became my excuse to treat myself to a Harry and David’s subscription so if the fruit tastes off, it’s probably me that’s the problem.
I enjoy your books and appreciate that:they’re well written; shockingly free from typos when half the books these days are riddled with them; and most of all, you paint pictures of healthy, mature, reasonable love – thinking person’s lasting love.