By Sue Zislis

My dear friend Jack, now 83 years old, has been a decent enough man. He had a rewarding career, a family and a lovely home in a beautiful neighborhood. Jack, however, always had a stubborn streak a mile wide.
He never acknowledged needing help. He never considered adjusting his lifestyle to match his changing abilities as he aged. If he had, perhaps the Jack that I just visited for the first time in a year, might not be so depressed. He might be more physically functional, and he might be more likely to do what he really wants: continue aging in his own home.
For the past few years, Jack’s family has heard him relentlessly insist that . . . “My hearing is just fine. I’m purposely ignoring you”; “No, I will NOT be walking with a cane”; “I am a better driver than any of you. No one else will be driving my car”; “I will NOT take up my throw rugs or re-arrange my house”; “I like my shoes. If you leave those old man shoes here, I’ll throw them away”; “If I need a damn grab bar, I will install it myself”; “I have my lounge chair, my TV, my snacks … I’m good. Leave me alone.”
Jack is not aging gracefully, and he is irritable as all get out. He’s fallen several times and been unable to get up from the floor by himself. He no longer hears well enough to engage in normal friendly conversation without everyone yelling. His back and neck are so stiff that it’s an effort to hold his head up when he talks to people. He suffers from dehydration because he refuses to drink or eat very much.
I flew across the country and then drove for two hours to visit with Jack. There were two days of hugs and tears and lots of grumble-bum comments. Only when I sat down with him on the third day, when I put my hand on his shoulder, insisted on eye contact and slowly urged him to explain himself, did we get to the bottom of the dehydration mystery.
“No, I do not have discomfort when I swallow,” he stated. “No, I’m not starving myself to hurry my final exit. I am intentionally not drinking and eating because I’m afraid I won’t get to the bathroom in time.” More hugs and tears.
As far as Jack is concerned, being dehydrated is far preferable to risking this most grievous indignity. Did he share this closely guarded secret with his family or his doctor? NO! But he did ask for a pill to help with his headaches, and joint and muscle pain; much of which could improve by drinking some water now and then. The doctor gave him the pills without asking enough questions. Then, dehydrated Jack experienced side effects from the pills. Low blood pressure and dizziness made him fall more often.
Jack is not the only one in this kind of mess. As we age, like it or not, our bodies wear out. This is normal aging. We are each unique individuals who will amble through this unavoidable process in our own way, at our own pace.
There are so many variables influencing this journey, many of which we cannot control. But, we do know what aging looks like. It’s no secret, and for most of us, there’s no need for our experience to be as difficult, as isolated and as apparently frightening as Jack’s. Denial is not the same as maintaining a “positive attitude.”
We CAN communicate honestly with people who are trying to support us. We CAN proactively learn what to expect, and how to adapt and accommodate. Our gradually diminishing physical ability doesn’t diminish our human value. With tweaks in strategies, we CAN prolong independence.
Here’s some advice you’ve heard a million times. Get your hearing checked. You don’t know what you cannot hear. Hearing keeps your brain engaged. Get your eyes checked more often. Keep moving, be social, go outside, eat smarter, hydrate. Stay off of the damn ladder. Your reaction time is not what it used to be. Look at your living space critically. Even if you haven’t stumbled, look for tripping hazards that could sabotage your plans for staying active.
Don’t wait until after you’ve fallen to make simple changes to your home. By the time you really need to make those changes, it can be overwhelming and costly to make all at once. It is possible to age with dignity. Stuff that ego under the rug with the tripping hazard fringe. Then, roll the rug up and donate it to a good cause.
Take a deep cleansing breath. Whatever your age and situation, you CAN make some changes and enjoy life. You CAN approach this challenge more intentionally than my dear unhappy friend, the ever-so-proud, Jack.

Mature Content is a monthly feature from Age-Friendly Carbondale.