The Dichotomy of Aging

And Not Following the Circus

Sophie, Doug, and I on the Oregon Coast, October 2023

Turning 65 has forced me to face some realities that seem to be lurking in the wings, ready to reveal themselves or to punch me in the face.

The power of suggestion is strong when one hits this milestone (as with many others). Let's take the Welcome to Medicare appointment, for example. A doctor's visit where they schedule a plethora of tests to see what may have been missed before turning this magical age. You know, the things you thought were stable or not an issue, yet suddenly become one, two, or three.

I have always been healthy and never spent any time in a hospital except for the birth of my daughter, which was one night. She was born before midnight, and I was out of there the next day. I've never experienced injuries, surgeries, or complications of any kind. My vertigo is the only affliction I have had to deal with that makes me feel like I want to die as I hover over the commode for twelve hours or more.

I am fortunate to have a physician spouse who has helped keep me on the healthy track for over 35 years. I don't give him all the credit, but he has always given me solid advice, and more importantly, he walks his talk.

So, back to the Medicare Wellness check. The nurse announced that she would administer the standard memory test to patients aged 65 and older. Of course, the minute she said test, my brain turned to mush. I felt like I had entered into a fog or some alternative universe. Those damn test anxieties from grade school still haunt and terrorize me. She told me to remember three words, then she gave me a sheet of paper and had me draw a clock with numbers and indicate, on that drawn clock, 10 minutes after 11:00.

First, I had already forgotten the three words because she moved right into the drawing of a clock. I panicked and, for the life of me, struggled to draw the big hand and the little hand in the right spot. Flippantly, I said, "Man, it must be that I am so conditioned to using a digital clock." WTH. It's a weak excuse, I know.

She took the paper away and pleasantly asked me to recite those three simple (but forgettable) words. The brain fog still hovered as I nervously laughed (I laugh when I am nervous and it annoys me). Just like in elementary school, I lacked the confidence to say what I knew. I came to and said the first two words, but did so hesitantly. I’ll be damned if I could remember the third.

When the nurse left the room, I recalled that elusive third word but questioned whether it was the right one. I've never felt so utterly stupid in my life. She returned and had me do the clock again because the doctor thought I needed another chance. Then, I felt like a misfit. I wanted to tell her the third word so badly, but didn't because I once again thought it was wrong.

My doctor and I talked about this awkward and demoralizing situation. I rolled the three words sloppily off my tongue. She was not worried about me, but I was. Those of you 65 and older are familiar with this routine. For me, I was unnerved.

I mentioned this experience to a friend, who gave me a code word practice book—a sweet gesture to test my brain, and I am slaying it! In speaking with other friends who have gone through this rite of passage, one had the same result: being unable to remember the three words or fill out the clock. Feeling a little better about the commonality of the results, I laughed it off. However, I am now working on a memory-stabilizing mission from various angles.

What I must remember about myself is that I've never been an auditory learner. Absorbing directions or anything verbally has never been my strong suit. But also, I am a thinker, a contemplator. Those verbal cues or answers sent to my memory bank will not come out when someone else gives the cue. It seems I must take the time to pull them out because pressuring me backfires and I’m at a disadvantage. A lot of "stuff" is stored in my brain, and it's rarely blank.

These are my excuses, and I'm sticking to them.

In addition to this annoying memory test, the pre-appointment forms I had to fill out contained what I thought was an excessive number of questions about mental health, asking me to rate my levels of depression, loneliness, relationships, and anxiety. I felt as though I should have at least some of these issues to be considered normal. Yes, on some levels here and there during my life, these concerns have arisen, but not because I am older and 65. Sheesh!

I have rarely used my age as an excuse to feel a certain way. I feel how I feel whenever I feel it. I don't appreciate being put in a hole that pegs me as old, lonely, depressed, not able to remember what day it is or think for myself. Those 65 and older know what I am talking about because I read your stories.

I realize the memory tests and mental health questions will serve as a baseline for subsequent visits, but man, I feel as though once 65 hits, I/we are doomed to the category of OLD and never able to improve at this stage of life. It's what's expected.

Well, screw that scenario.

All this makes me keenly aware of the changes in my body and mind and to finding ways to thwart issues before they explode in my face.

Thanks for reading. Stay healthy and curious.

Michelle Lindblom